Disenchanted
by fakelib
Summary: She was in too much pain to realize that the impact caused her to detransform. The crowd stared in shock. Many gasped. Some screamed. Alya's phone clattered to the ground. Tikki cried. And Chat's expression had never looked more horrified. "...Marinette?"
1. Whisper

**Notes: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 1:** **Whisper**_

* * *

 _ **dis·en·chant·ed**_

 _(adj.) disappointed by someone or something previously respected or admired; disillusioned._

* * *

Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut as she heaved against the side of the alley, desperately trying to breathe air that didn't seem to be reaching her lungs. Chat Noir landed beside her a few second later, dropping his shortened staff on the asphalt with a careless clatter and sliding down the side of the building until he sat on the floor. He wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his glove, accidentally smearing blood across his cheek. Ladybug wanted to ask him if he was okay, but she didn't have the energy. Only now had they finally managed to escape the akuma's maelstrom of explosive destruction so they could get ten extremely well-deserved seconds to breathe, but she couldn't even seem to do that right.

Chat caught his breath enough to speak, but not without gasping between every few words. "We have... been fighting... for _three. hours."_

Ladybug slid down the wall and plopped down next to him, sweat dripping down her face. She was visibly shaking from exhaustion and her voice was dense with alarm. "...This is bad, Chat." She stared down at her hand, which was accidentally sitting in a layer of dark blue and purple dust—dust that used to be _people_ —and quickly withdrew it with a flinch, cradling it to her body. "This is... _really_ bad."

Her partner didn't say anything. He peered out of the alley to see if the akuma had found them yet, or was anywhere nearby. Sure enough, Falling Star came blazing down the street, leaving a trail of crackling fire in her path. Chat quickly retreated back into the cover of the alley and looked at Ladybug. His deep green eyes were unfocused, but still managed to hold that mischievous zeal. "We need to get in orbit."

The heroine unsteadily got to her feet and held out a hand to help her partner, not bothering to roll her eyes. She wondered vaguely how he could still joke when they were facing the most dangerous and difficult akuma they have encountered thus far—when the odds of them winning managed to diminish so dangerously low. Of course, they didn't plan on surrendering anytime soon, but...

...They couldn't keep this up forever.

Chat appreciatively took her hand and rose, relying on a bit of her strength to get standing all the way upright. He picked up his staff and Ladybug started to swing her yo-yo, trying to warm herself up back into fighting mode. Even though she was far from it, she threw him a silent look, asking him if he was ready to move. He threw her his signature Chat-grin as a response, but it was shaky, and the dread filling his eyes did nothing to make her believe he was any more prepared than she. Ladybug knew she had a history of over-doubting herself, but if Chat was just as doubtful as she was, she knew she wasn't kidding herself.

At the moment, she really wished she was.

* * *

 **...**

 **Three Hours Earlier**

 **...**

Marinette pushed open the doors of the school library, one of her hands clutching a paper bag branded with the logo of her parents' bakery. She still had plenty of time left in her lunch break, but one glance outside at the gray, encroaching clouds and she decided it was better to return to campus while it was dry than to get caught in the inevitable downpour. Alya, who always joined Marinette for lunch, hadn't even dared to leave the school—the storm had been brewing all week, with no sunshine and bad wind and general characteristics of low-pressure weather, and the red-haired girl wanted to avoid it as best as she possibly could. So, Marinette left her in the library and promised to bring her back something delicious.

Alya didn't even look up from her laptop when the paper bag fell in her lap. "Hey girl."

"Hey," Marinette greeted, sitting beside her friend. Alya was working on the Ladyblog, but instead of looking as excited and intent as she usually did when working on, well, _anything_ pertaining to Ladybug, her face was etched with a concerned expression. Marinette frowned. "Is everything okay with the blog?"

Alya glanced at her and gave her a small smile. "No, the blog's fine, but a lot of viewers are starting to get apprehensive." She frowned, the worried expression back. "This is the longest period of time we've had without akumas since the attacks even started."

Marinette bit her lip. "Oh, really? I haven't noticed."

(She did notice. _Of course she noticed._ She noticed it more than _anyone_. But that wasn't something Alya needed to know.)

Her friend continued without suspect. "Well, it hasn't been awfully long, but today marks one whole month of akuma-free activity. Before that, the longest time had been one week. Ladybug and Chat Noir haven't outright said anything yet, but..." Alya trailed off, glancing back to her computer screen.

During the first week without any akumas, Marinette hadn't worried very much. Like Alya said, there had been weeks in the past when Hawk Moth was inactive. It was rare, but it'd happened more than once.

A few months ago, her reaction to this would have been entirely different. When she first became Ladybug and got into the rhythm of the frequent attacks, every day that passed without an akuma left her more and more on edge until they finally fought one, leaving her in a never-ending cycle of stress and uneasiness. Not that she necessarily wanted to fight an akuma, but her brain was still so overwhelmed by the responsibilities and implications of being a god-honest superhero that 'no akumas' equaled 'Hawk Moth is doing something' which equaled 'time to panic.'

It was on those days, when she was practically ill with anticipation, that she realized how genuine of a person, and true a friend, Chat really was. He might've been an admittedly skilled and quick learner for someone with as little experience in the suit as she did, but that hadn't stopped her from assuming that he was an egotistical, flirting, pun-making joke. And while those assumptions were actually _absolutely true,_ he'd proven that he was also so much more than that.

The very first time Hawk Moth had gone AWOL for an entire week, Marinette remembered how, while she had a nervous breakdown, Chat had remained level-headed and took the reins of the situation. She exhausted herself by worrying while he exhausted himself twice as much by patrolling every single corner of the city with every second of free time he could grab, just so he could at least try to put her at ease. He knew she was scared—and, looking back, she realized that he must have been, too, because they were _fourteen_ and the only people (creatures? gods?) with experience were their kwamis, who _didn't know what was happening—_ —but he'd proven that he was much more mature and emotionally stable than she could ever hope to be.

It was because of Chat that the next akuma-free week had been easier. During the next one, she was finally able to breathe. The fourth was spent stargazing and enjoying the pros of the quiet. The fifth was honestly nothing more than a vacation week. The sixth week had practically been a celebration—until it stretched into a seventh. And an eighth, a ninth and a tenth.

Suddenly, she was back to square one, and... it... it made her feel _vulnerable_. Her instincts had implanted a permanent sinking feeling in her gut. Even Chat couldn't help but admit that there was definitely something wrong. They were running themselves dry with patrols and searches and plans, but it did little good when they barely knew anything about the man they were after—or, rather, seeing that he now had the upper hand in the situation, the man after them.

She hoped that the painful smile on her face seemed reassuring. "I'm sure that they're doing everything they can."

"It's not that I doubt them," Alya sighed. "I'm just... worried for them. That Hawkmoth guy must be planning or something. What if one of them gets hurt? I mean, _mon dieu,_ remember when Chat Noir got set _on fire?"_

(She _really_ could have done without the reminder.)

"They're heroes, Alya," she said gently as the heart-stopping memory literally burned in her mind. "There's bound to be occupational hazards and scary situations. But if there's any danger or anything we need to know, I know they'll tell us."

Alya was quiet for a moment before she seemed to accept this response. "Yeah. I guess. But I'm still gonna be worried."

"I'm sure they appreciate being thought of," Marinette replied sincerely. "But seriously, don't beat yourself up over this."

 _'Because that's_ my _job.'_

Alya closed out of her blog and opened up the paper bag. "Okay, okay, I won't—oooh, croissants! You're the best, Mari."

As soon as she said it, Nino and Adrien just happened to be walking right past their table. The DJ's eyes lit up and he tugged on Adrien's arm to get him to stop walking. "Did someone say food?"

Alya quickly shoved one in her mouth. "Noo..."

Nino leaned over her and tried to snatch the bag from her hands. "Gimme!"

Alya hissed and slapped his hand away.

Marinette deflated and leaned back into her chair as Nino continued to try to steal Alya's lunch. She didn't think she could have handled talking about the 'akuma crisis' for much longer, and was grateful for the distraction, even if the noise did cause the librarian to glare at them.

She was so wrapped up in trying to calm her nerves that she didn't notice Adrien standing behind her. "Marinette."

Startled, Marinette jerked in her chair, and the momentum caused the chair to topple over with a loud clatter. Tikki let out a small squeal of surprise, but it was muffled by the fabric of her purse. A few people looked up from their work to stare at the source of the disruption and the librarian's glare grew twice as cold. Her cheeks flared with embarrassment. Alya turned away from Nino to ask her friend if she was okay, but then she caught Nino using the distraction to try to pry the bag from her hands and went back to defending her food.

"Oh my gosh, I am _so sorry,"_ Adrien rushed, holding out a hand to help her up. His green eyes were wide with concern and he stared at her guiltily, his cheeks blushing. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Marinette stared into his worried green eyes and felt her blush grow hotter. "I—Uh—N-no—It's—I—It's—"

Adrien grabbed her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. She stared at their entwined hands and was so shocked that Adrien Agreste was holding her hand that she forgot to freak out and try to pull away. Adrien didn't seem to mind, or even notice, that he was still holding her hand as he looked her over. "Are you okay? No bumps or bruises?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked. She clenched her free hand to prevent herself from facepalming.

He didn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? I really—"

Her heart fluttered in her chest. He was so worried about her. Even though she knew that he was just being his usual always-looking-out-for-others self, it was flattering for him to be paying her so much attention. Somehow this gave her strength to voice a few coherent-enough sentences without combusting. "No, Adrien, it's okay. Really. I've had worse falls. Don't worry about it."

Marinette tried not stare at the way he pursed his lips before he nodded. "Okay. But at least let me walk you back to class. The bell's gonna ring in a few minutes."

Her heart leaped into her throat. "Okay," she breathed. They were still holding hands.

As they walked towards the exit, Marinette spared a quick glance behind her to see if Alya could see what was happening. Alya and Nino appeared to have miraculously already made up and were each eating a croissant while watching Adrien and Marinette leave the library. Both of them wore the exact same shit-eating grin and knowing look.

She blushed and turned around in time for Adrien let go of her hand to hold open the door for her. Her blush deepened as she stepped out into the hallway, and she swore she heard Alya sing "Have fun~" right before the door shut behind them.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding his hand out to her again, and Marinette barely managed to not scream because Adrien was being extremely cute and chivalrous and actually _wanted_ to hold her hand _willingly_ and it was _not a drill, what the hell was she supposed to do, this was not in the handbook._

She would have stood there all day in an internal panic if she could, but the seconds were ticking by and there was only so much time before the innocent interaction became awkward. So, in a spur of the moment, she decided to throw the proverbial handbook out the proverbial window and answered Adrien's question by daringly taking his hand in hers, hoping that she didn't seem overeager as she did so. His cheeks pinkened ever so slightly, and he gave her a small smile before the two of them started to walk (well, Adrien walked, but Marinette _floated)_ down the stairs.

They walked in a surprisingly easy silence. Somewhere along the way their feet started to move in sync with each other, and their simultaneous footfalls echoed quietly throughout the mostly empty hall. They allowed themselves to walk slowly because they still had a few minutes to spare, and it still had yet to start raining, so there wasn't any danger in getting wet. Their combined hands swung gently back and forth, and Marinette found herself lost in the rhythm. If someone told her this morning that she would be strolling the school hand in hand with the love of her life, she would have never believed them. She stole a glance at her companion to see if he was as content as she was—

—but immediately fell off of cloud nine when she saw an uncomfortable look etched on his normally relaxed face, much like the one Alya had been sporting earlier.

Her heart instantly began to pound hysterically, because that must mean that she was making him uncomfortable and _damn it Marinette you had one job to do_ —

"Marinette," he said, his voice soft and devoid of all the amusement it'd held just minutes prior. His walking slowed to a stop, and she stopped beside him, still holding his hand, being extra careful not to trip over her own feet and fall in front of Adrien for what would be the second time in the past hour (albeit not even close to the record). They locked eyes, and she saw him looking at her with what appeared to be... hesitation?

"Y-yes?" she asked just as softly. Her heart was pounding dangerously fast now, and she tried to settle it by attempting to clear her mind of negativity, but her efforts were in vain.

Adrien was obviously trying not to seem tense, but his shoulders were still visibly stiff. "Well, uh, back in the library, before you fell over, I... I wanted to talk to you about... something."

Marinette's heart halted to a stop. Whatever he needed to talk about couldn't have been any good if he was so nervous about it. He was probably going to tell her that he found out about her crush and thought that she was disgusting, or something as equally lethal to her soul. She tried to open her mouth and say something, but all she could let out was an unintelligible gurgle.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to continue while Marinette braced herself, but a loud explosion in the courtyard cut off whatever he was going to say.

The two of them whirled around. It was seconds before classroom doors opened behind them and students tried to catch a glimpse of the noise's source while the teachers fought to contain them. The doors of the library slammed open and students poured out onto the balcony and stairs, a wide-eyed Alya and Nino being two of the first to appear. Marinette hurried to the edge of the walkway and peered down at the courtyard, her throat instantly tightening when she saw what it was.

The akuma was hunched over in a crater she made from the impact of her landing. She appeared to be a young woman, with her hair in a braided updo and her body clothed in a shimmering body suit that looked like a night sky full of stars. Slowly, she rose to her feet, allowing the crowd to get a better look at her.

Tied around her waist were a series of long red, orange and yellow sashes that trailed all the way to her feet, along with what appeared to be a filled grenade belt. Her shoulders and chest were wrapped with a black transparent shawl that fluttered in the wind. Her face was coated with a glittery substance, caked around her eyes in a mask-like fashion and then gradually attenuating as it went down her face, to the point where it was only dusting her chin. Strapped on her back was a sheath of glimmering arrows, and in her hand was a fire-red bow, the length shaped like a telescope. A smile spread across her face, and even from all the way up there, Marinette could see the woman's eyes darken with hatred.

A few smart people were already moving away, taking cover in classrooms or booking for the exits. Others, like Alya, who was already recording the akuma with her phone, or Marinette, who was frozen dumbly in her spot and had forgotten how to move and think, were making themselves easy targets. In the back of her mind, she knew she needed to be finding a place to hide and transform, but her reflexes were being hindered by the overflow of shock and fear rusting the gears in her brain and locking them in place. Her knees were shaking with the effort to keep her on her own two feet and her chest started to ache from the lack of oxygen filling her lungs, but she couldn't remember what breathing was, let alone how to do it. Tikki was pounding against her thigh from within her purse, trying to elicit a response— _any_ response—but to no avail.

She was snapped out of her daze by a pale-faced Adrien tugging at their still-combined hands. The gears in her brain broke free, and she gasped for air, but ended up choking on the sharp intake and stumbling backwards into Adrien. He let go of her hand and grasped her shoulders to keep her upright. His hands were shaking. "Marinette—"

"I am Falling Star!" the akuma boomed, nocking an arrow and aiming above the library entrance. Her smile grew wider. "Prepare to be _blown out of this world!"_

Everything seemed to explode at once. First, it was the arrow that fired into the arch above the library, which flew like an actual shooting star and hit its target with a ball of flames. Then it was the students near the library screaming and tumbling down the steps in a flurry of panic to avoid the flaming debris of their school. Then it was Marinette, who watched in horror as Alya froze with fear at the sight of a large falling piece of building tumbling down towards her exact location. A scream was about to bubble its way up her throat, when Nino pulled through the crowd and managed to jerk her friend away in time.

Marinette couldn't breathe properly. She turned to Adrien, who looked like he was going to throw up. He seemed to be having as difficult of a time grasping the situation as she did, which was saying a lot. But before she could even say his name, he quickly grasped her hand and tugged her through the quickly thickening crowd. "We need to get you out of here!"

(Actually, it was _he_ who needed to get out of there, and she who needed to stay and fight. But Marinette didn't have the strength or mind to resist.)

They had only made it halfway down the hall, Adrien weaving a path through the crowd with surprising stealth, when someone slammed forcefully into Marinette, causing her hand to be torn from his. She gasped and crashed into the wall, blinking as her head spun. She heard Adrien call her name, but just as she straightened to see where he was, an arrow exploded two classrooms away and knocked her off her feet. Marinette spluttered as smoke and kicked-up dust clogged the air, pieces of wood and plaster showering over her like bullets.

Then she was suddenly getting picked up. She couldn't see who it was through the dust, but she could feel that they were wearing some sort of... leather?

Oh.

When the dust finally cleared, Marinette looked up to see Chat Noir's face. His face was uncharacteristically hardened, preventing her from being able to read his emotions. He didn't meet her eyes.

Only when Chat took out his staff and started to extend them off the walkway did Marinette remember how to talk. "Wait, wait! Adrien! I need to find Adrien!"

She thought she felt Chat cringe, but she could have just imagined it. "I saved him before," he assured, although his vacant voice was anything but assuring. "I told him to go home." He gently placed her on her feet, and only then did he look at her. His face was serious, but there was underlying fear cracking through. "Go home, Marinette."

He didn't wait for her to reply; he extended his staff and went off to find the akuma.

In front of her, Falling Star had started throwing bombs that exploded into glittery dark blue and purple dust cloud. She threw the bomb at a group of students rushing for a classroom—poofing them into the same dust. There was no trace that they had even been _people_.

Marinette might've stood there all day, numb and nonfunctioning. It wasn't like her to be freezing up like this, and she didn't know why and she hated it. She was always so quick to act. Fear was always present when fighting akuma, but she learned to suppress it, if only for the sake of Paris. But this, what she was feeling right now, was too powerful for her to restrain, and—

 _"Marinette!"_

Startled into action, Marinette spun around, searching for the origin of the voice. Then she felt Tikki wriggling around in her purse, and realized that she had yet to acknowledge the kwami. She quickly opened her purse, and Tikki darted out before she even removed her hand. Her blue eyes were alight with rare anger, but mostly worry. "Marinette! We need to transform!"

Marinette felt her throat tighten. "Tikki."

That one word was all it took to dissolve all traces of her anger, leaving just the worry. "Marinette..."

"...I'm scared."

Tikki flew to her charge's cheek and rubbed against her soothingly. "I know."

"This doesn't feel right."

"I know."

"Chat needs me."

"I know."

"I can't do this."

Tikki flew right into her face, her eyes steely and her voice fierce. "Yes you can."

Marinette swallowed. Took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Opened them.

She wouldn't let him win.

 _"Tikki, spots on!"_

* * *

 **...**

 **Present**

 **...**

Ladybug flattened herself against the Eiffel Tower, trying to keep her heavy breathing as quiet as possible, even though the akuma probably couldn't hear her from all the way up there. She had a perfect view of Chat Noir, in his own hiding spot behind a tree, his staff poised and ready in his hand. Falling Star was parading down the street, getting ready to fire her next arrow. Chat looked up and met his partner's eyes, waiting for her signal. She nodded.

So far, luck had not been on the heroes' side. This was their third game plan—Plan A ended with Falling Star chasing them around the entire city while pelting them with her Stardust Bombs (which turned its victims into _actual stardust),_ and Plan B ended with them narrowly escaping a shower of Shooting Arrows. She seemed to have an unlimited amount of both, which made it incredibly difficult to get close enough to grab her bow; Lucky Charm and Cataclysm were, for the most part, close-range attacks, while Falling Star's grenades and arrows could hit a target at any distance. Ladybug had already needed to detransform twice after two failed Lucky Charms, and Chat Noir three times after three failed Cataclysms. But Ladybug thought they had her this time—or, at least she hoped they did. She was hanging onto Chat's brief words before they departed: "The third time's the charm."

(But they were just so _tired_. Even if their plan had been flawless, something was bound to falter in the execution. Chat had looked like he was barely able to keep his head up and Ladybug wasn't fairing much better. Her mind and emotions were muddled and she was trying so hard to keep them _down_ and _focus,_ but no matter how super that mask made her seem, she was still _human.)_

It happened so fast.

Chat Noir leapt out from behind the tree and pounced on Falling Star, slamming her to the ground. Star screamed and flipped Chat over so that she was the one pinning him down. Chat worked his leg free and kneed her in the stomach, causing her to grunt and slide off him. Panting, he opened his mouth to call for a Cataclysm, which was Ladybug's signal to move, when Star quickly rebounded and slammed him down to the ground again. Ladybug watched in horror as she reached into her sheath and pulled out a single arrow. Chat struggled to get free, but his exhaustion weighed him down, and Star was too strong.

And damn it if she didn't try. She'd tried so _hard._ She had spent the entire fight suppressing her fears as best as she could, making sure her emotions didn't take control. But seeing her partner—her lifeline, her other half, the one who always knew how to make it okay—like that, struggling as Falling Star lowered an arrow to his chest—

 **...**

She just _snapped._

 **...**

 _"LUCKY CHARM!"_

Both her partner and the akuma looked up to her spot on the tower, one out of panic and the other out of mild surprise. Falling Star withdrew the arrow from its position above Chat's heart and resheathed it. She stood up. "Look what just entered the atmosphere."

Ladybug didn't even bother to look at what the charm was as she caught it. All her emotional turmoil—all her fear and doubt and sadness and exhaustion and hurt and so much more—all of it had melted together into a ball of blinding pure, unadulterated _rage_.

She was going to make Hawk Moth pay. And she was going to start by burning out a star.

With impressive speed, Ladybug swung herself off the Eiffel Tower and practically _launched_ herself towards the akuma. Her face was hot with anger, her blue eyes ignited with pulsing adrenaline, her sneer filled with disgust. Her vision was so tainted by red that she couldn't even see Falling Star, but she didn't even care. She extended her hands, ready to throttle the evil out of the akuma, a warcry starting to tear its way through her throat—

 **...**

 _ **"LADYBUG WATCH OUT!"**_

 **...**

The following number of events occurred in a span of mere seconds.

First, just moments before Ladybug reached Falling Star, said akuma fired an arrow in her direction before Chat could even gather the physical strength to stop her. He screamed to Ladybug in warning a split second before the arrow exploded midair. The force of the explosion threw Ladybug backwards into the tower, before gravity pulled her plummeting to the ground.

Incensed, Chat disregarded all protocol and professionalism and slugged Falling Star in the face so hard that he heard a loud crack. It threw her backwards a good couple of feet and knocked her out cold, effectively allowing him to snatch the akumatized object. He snapped the telescope in half and caught the butterfly in his gloved hand, his breathing heavy. The anger quickly left his body, and he fell to his knees and keeled over, barely able to stay conscious, before he remembered what happened to His Lady.

People in nearby houses, who had been watching the fight from their windows, hurried outside. News reporters stationed on the edge of the danger zone zoomed their cameras in on the fallen hero. Other people that had been hiding nearby to catch the action, such as Alya and Nino, rushed forward to get a better look. Chat ran—or, at this point, stumbled—over to his unmoving partner as fast as he could, his heart beating dangerously fast and bile rising in his throat at the thought of his worst nightmare coming true.

Once they all saw her properly, however, everyone went deathly still.

 **...**

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

She was in too much pain to realize that the impact caused her to detransform.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **...**

The crowd stared in shock.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

Many gasped. Some screamed.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

Alya's phone clattered to the ground.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

Tikki cried.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

And Chat's expression had never looked more horrified.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

"...Marinette?"

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **who needs happiness when angst can just _rip your heart to pieces_**

 **I posted this on Ao3 last night at like 1 am and forgot to come here whoops. I have the same username if you want to find me.**

 **FanFiction doesn't let you make blank lines so I had to fill them with ellipses. Bear with me.**

 **I was hoping to insert a lot more amazing space puns, but it didn't... fit the mood.**

 **(Yes, we will find out what Adrien wanted to tell Marinette. Promise.)**


	2. Creak

**Notes:**

 **** Warning: anxiety, shock, blood/injury**

 ****I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 2: Creak**_

* * *

Marinette felt a raindrop land on her cheek.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. The sky was overcast, but the sudden burst of light filling her vision caused her to squint. She couldn't see much with her tired eyes besides silhouettes of what she supposed were people, whose blurred movements made it harder for her eyes to focus. Her throat and lips were painfully dry and her tastebuds hissed at the sour flavor haunting the inside of her mouth. Breathing was inexplicably arduous, and the lingering smoke sent her into a coughing fit that irritated her throat doubly and killed her injured ribs. And, even through the ringing in her ears, she could still vaguely hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. Another raindrop fell, this time landing on her forehead.

Clouds. Thunder. Rain. The storm was looming.

Marinette could feel the hardness of the ground beneath her and the bits of gravel sticking to her cheek. Her grimy hair itched the back of her neck, the ribbons holding her pigtails long since tattered and lost. She could feel the uncomfortable weight of her clothes sticking to her body, plastered to her aggravated skin with sweat and something else. She wanted to tear them off, but just the thought of moving, even sitting up, was enough to inundate her with nausea.

Everything was hurting. Her flesh, her bones, her muscles, even her own blood—boiling and rushing and burning the lining of her veins. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her brain felt as though it were getting rhythmically stabbed by hundreds of needles over and over again. Marinette's body tremored involuntarily, and she was too hot—too hot, too much, she was going to asphyxiate in her own battered skin.

Would this be how she died? It was ironically befitting for a hero of Paris to flicker out at the foot of the Eiffel, in the line of saving their city. Given the circumstances, it was more than she could have hoped for. Not as painful or sudden or disturbing as some scenarios she'd imagined in the past. She just wished she had more time. She wished she could've said goodbye. She wished she could've apologized.

Her parents would be heartbroken. They'd be losing their only child, their daughter. Alya would lose her best friend, Nino and Adrien a good one, her classmates a close acquaintance. They would be upset, confused. She would be mourned, and she had faith that she would be remembered by many, but as the years passed, as life changed and grew and went on, she knew that, sooner or later, she'd be forgotten by most. That would be okay, though, because Marinette was never meant to be remembered anyway, and she would live on with the people that mattered.

But where Marinette was gone, so was Ladybug, and Paris would grieve for a fallen hero. They would admire her for her bravery, and be thankful for her dedication. But still, as much as they respected her, they knew so _little_ about her. They didn't know her age or her hobbies or her interests—they didn't even know her name. Of course, that was the intended effect of her distance, and it appeared that her secrecy didn't interfere with the city's support—the people trusted Ladybug solely because she kept them safe and pretended to be brave. In the end, they would remember the mask, the magic, but they wouldn't remember the girl. They couldn't possibly remember a person they never even knew.

Regardless, they wouldn't be Ladybug-less for long. It would be the end of Marinette, but Tikki would find a new charge. A fresh Ladybug for the Parisians to cheer on, for Alya to obsess over, to purify the akumas and battle Hawk Moth, to be Chat's—

...Chat.

Marinette closed her eyes. Chat Noir would miss her. Chat would miss Ladybug. If she was gone, he wouldn't have the time to stop and heal like everyone else did. He would be forced to continue saving the city, forced to jump back into work like she never even left. He'd be forced to cooperate with a new partner, with someone who had no idea what they were doing, at a time where he needed an expert. Their work would be sloppy and out of sync, their conversations strained and professional. And when he looked over his shoulder to look for someone familiar and reliable, someone to ground him and reassure him, to look for _her,_ he'd see someone foreign and trifling and out of place. He'd see a stranger.

And, she... she couldn't do that to him. She couldn't put him through something like that, not now.

She was stronger than this. Better than this. Braver. Ladybug wouldn't allow this, she wouldn't give up so easily. Not without trying.

She needed to get up.

Marinette started small by gently wiggling her fingers and toes, to make sure she could still move them. When they proved to be functioning well enough, she moved to her arms and legs, which were more stiff and less cooperative, but didn't instantly appear to be broken or paralyzed. Bracing herself, she ever so carefully shifted her body and moved to sit up, even though her aching body screamed for her to stay sprawled on the pavement. It was taking all of her strength and concentration to peel herself off the ground, but a choked gasp above her head caused her to pause and divert her attention to the source.

Chat Noir was staring down at her, his green eyes blown wide and a hand covering his mouth in shock. His other hand was clutched loosely, and she could just make out a black butterfly fluttering around in it. There was still blood smeared over his cheek, and a nasty cut on his forehead, and surely many other injuries concealed by the suit, but he didn't even seem to be aware of how beaten he appeared. He stepped towards her timidly, as if he were afraid of penetrating some unseen force field that, if breeched, would cause the girl before him to crumble to pieces. When nothing happened, however, it was _he_ that began to crumble—his knees began to shake and his breathing became ragged and his eyes _screamed_ something that was too loud for her to hear.

His reaction caused her heart to sink into her stomach as if it were filled with sand. She tried to tell him that she was okay, if only just to set him at ease, but her throat burned too much for her to speak. She did, however, let out a soft groan as a sharp pain bloomed on her temple. She sorely raised a hand to the tender spot, and when she withdrew it, her fingertips were coated with dark blood.

...wait.

 _Bare_ fingers?

Marinette's fatigued expression transitioned to one of confusion. She slowly flipped her hand back and forth, looking at the ungloved surfaces as if she had never seen a hand before. She raised and inspected her other hand, which was also bare, in the same fashion. _'Why...?'_

Then she looked down at herself. Her clothes were dirty and bloodstained, but it was unmistakable.

Pink shoes. Pink pants. White shirt. Gray blazer.

 **...**

She... wasn't transformed.

 **...**

...She wasn't transformed?

For the longest time, Marinette couldn't do anything but stare at her clothes, her mind whirling. She didn't remember calling off the transformation. Did she call off the transformation? She briefly ran through the choppy memories of the fallout with Falling Star, Chat almost getting killed, and her getting thrown into the Eiffel Tower after her blind effort to save him. She—she must've blacked out, and Tikki must've been too weak to hold—

Marinette quickly sat up all the way, ignoring how rapidly the pain escalated and the air left her lungs. She scanned the ground, and spotted a small red lump a foot away that she quickly grabbed and cupped in her hands. The kwami shuddered at the touch, and Marinette felt tears land on her palms. Tikki looked at her, her blue eyes heavy in a way that made her look her real age. She hiccupped.

"Mari, I'm—I'm so so so so sorry, I was just—I didn't want you to get hurt—I tried to keep—but I—Lucky Charm—"

"Tikki," she whispered. Her voice was weak and scratchy, as if she hadn't spoken in years. She didn't think she could have spoken in a louder tone if she wanted to. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about me!" the kwami cried, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You need help!"

Marinette clutched at her shirt, ignoring the wet feeling that reached her fingertips. She was slowly becoming more and more aware of her surroundings, of the commotion, and she suddenly realized just how many people were watching them. There were cameras, a lot of cameras. She couldn't hear sirens in the distance over the crashing sea of voices:

 _"Wha_ — _who is that?"_

 _"I can't believe..."_

 _"Holy shit."_

 _"Are you recording this?"_

 _"What the..."_

 _"Nino I swear if you don't let me go_ right now—"

 _"Alya, please_ — _"_

 _"Oh mon dieu..."_

 _"Someone call 112!"_

 _"She's just a girl! She can't be older than_ — _"_

 _"Is she even alive?!"_

"Marinette," Chat whispered.

She tore her eyes away from the crowd and moved to crane her neck, but she didn't have to look up very far. Chat Noir was kneeling in front of her, his free hand extending towards her shoulder. He was wearing that mask again, but it was starting to fall apart, and panic was bleeding tauntingly through the cracks.

"M-Marinette," he said, his voice breaking, "Marinette, you're—"

"Chat..." she choked.

He gulped. His eyes swarmed with something like defeat. "...My Lady."

Marinette's heart stopped. She could feel the blood in her veins turn to ice, and her body numbed over. She dazedly looked out at the crowd again against her better judgement. Instead of immediately focussing on the faces, her eyes fell on the phones and cameras, blinking and flashing and aimed at her. They'd seen everything. They knew everything. They—

They knew she was Ladybug.

 _They knew she was Ladybug._

And now, so would the rest of France.

So would—

"No," she whispered.

Chat's mask shattered for a second, but he glued it back together before she could notice. He couldn't—he needed to—

"We need to get you out of here," he said quietly. "I—I can get you out of here. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

He was waiting for her reply, but Marinette didn't know how to respond. She was still processing—

 _ **They knew she was Ladybug.**_

How did this even _happen?_ She'd... she'd been so _careful,_ she worked so—worked _so hard_ to keep her identity a secret. Months of lies and excuses and rejecting and bottling everything with an iron lid... Was one screw-up all it took to _destroy_ all that?

That wasn't fair. _That. Wasn't. Fair._

Everything felt like it was closing in on her. The crowd seemed to have enough sense to keep their distance, but just their presence was enough to smother her. She could hear sirens nearing dangerously close to them—An ambulance? Police? Whatever it was meant more people, and she didn't think she could handle that. She couldn't bear to meet Chat's eyes, and she could feel Tikki shaking in her palms, and the pain was nearing intolerable, and her brain was panicking, overwhelmed, telling her to shut everything out, but she didn't know _how._

Before her distress could augment any further, her mind seemed to veil the outside world for her, and she suddenly felt like she was being submerged underwater. She was surrounded by a deep, dark sea, devoid of all life except for her, the surface high above her and the bottom non-existent. The voices and noises around her became muffled and warped, and her visual surroundings were blurred by a light-fractured field of darkness. Her body was painless, weightless, like a feather floating on air, and all her senses were shut off.

Then, the darkness wrapped around her—

 _(frozen—)_

 _(enclosing—)_

 _(suffocating—)_

—and when she tried to breathe—

 _(cry_ — _)_

 _(scream_ — _)_

—her lungs were filled with water, and suddenly she was drowning—

 _(dead_ — _)_

 _(dying_ — _)_

—and she tried to reach the surface—

 _(thrashed_ — _)_

 _(kicked_ — _)_

 _(fought for it_ — _)_

—but all she could do was keep sinking—

 _(deep—)_

 _(drag—)_

 _(down—)_

—and she couldn't—

 _(down_ — _)_

—she couldn't—

 _(do_ — _)_

 _(_ — _wn_ — _)_

—she—

 _ **(dead)**_

 **...**

 _She needed to **breathe**._

 **...**

Marinette snapped back into reality when Chat's hand fell on her shoulder, and she quickly shied away from the touch, as if it burned her skin. He was too close—

"Marinette—" he started worriedly.

The girl scuttled backwards clumsily, her body still broken but her mind desperate for her to distance herself. She could hear the crowd begin to murmur and the shutter of camera lenses. Chat's eyes saturated with concern, but she clenched her eyes shut before she could let them hypnotize her. She could hear the sounds of car doors slamming shut—help was here. They were going to take her away. She was out of time.

She needed to go.

"Tikki," she whispered under her breath, her voice shaking. "T-Tikki, can you—?"

Tikki didn't meet her eyes. By this point she had stopped crying, but the kwami's sorrow radiated off of her in waves. Her voice was hollow, but the words were procured entirely from painfully heartfelt devotion. "I'll give you as much time as I can."

Marinette took a deep breath.

 **...**

(Was she really doing this?)

(She had no choice.)

 **...**

"Tikki, spots on."

 **...**

The transformation happened with a familiar burst of pink light, albeit duller and a little delayed getting itself in motion. But, the outcome was the same. Where Marinette sat seconds before was now a familiar spotted hero.

(Could she still call herself a hero? She didn't feel like a hero. She wasn't sure if she even felt like a hero in the first place.)

The crowd gasped, and there were more voices, more cameras. As if they didn't already know.

Chat stared at her, and this time she stared back. When the shock faded, she could see his eyes narrow slightly, calculating, until they widened all the way with fear. He started to reach out towards her. "Ladybug, **_don't_ — _"_**

Ladybug stood up. Her legs felt like they were about to snap in half, and her stomach lurched, but the strength from the suit helped her keep it together. Still, her knees were on the brink of buckling, and Tikki's magic wasn't going to last long at all. Hopefully it would be enough. It had to be.

She turned to her partner. There were tens, hundreds, millions of things she wanted to say. 'I'm sorry' would probably be the most coherent and effective message for her to relay.

Instead, she said, "Don't follow me."

Before he could say anything else, her yo-yo latched onto a support and she swung without looking back. Chat screamed her name, but she couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears and the teeth-grinding pain that tore through her arms and the voice in her head screaming for her to _'go go go go go go GO!'_

She'd never swung her yo-yo so fast in her life, nonetheless while being so injured, throw after throw after throw, darting down several streets in the blink of an eye. But then again, she'd never been in such a hurry to run away before she could be stopped. By the time Chat could even think to extend his staff and run after her, she was already out of sight.

He screamed her name again, but she was too far gone to hear.

 **...**

* * *

He watched.

The white butterflies sat in the darkest corners of Hawk Moth's lair, allowing themselves to be sheltered by the shadows. Their wings flapped mindlessly and out of sync, merely background music for Hawk Moth as he focused on the scene before him.

He watched.

He watched her swing through the streets, more of a red blur than a girl. But he knew it was her.

He caught sight of her face as she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was following, her eyes fearful and desperate. She was too far ahead to see her partner trying to stay on her trail, but eventually making an inevitable wrong turn. And of course she didn't see _him._

It had been anguishing, even torturous, for the villain to not release any akumas for an entire month. No akumas meant no progress, (albeit one could argue that akumas achieved nothing when those heroes never failed to defeat every single one, but the feeling of at least _trying_ held _some_ weight of accomplishment), but as tedious as it was, he had to swallow his impatience. He knew it would get him nowhere. Besides, he'd waited this long; he could stand to wait a little more.

And, as he looked at the scene before him, he knew it'd been worth the wait. Oh _hell_ had it been worth it.

By conserving Nooroo's energy and practicing with his dark magic for an entire month, his ultimate plan had been to produce an akuma powerful enough to send Ladybug and Chat Noir enough steps backwards so he could at least _get_ somewhere. Best-case scenario, the miraculouses were his. But he would take what he could get, because with the skill advancements he'd made, he was one hundred percent guaranteed to gain _something_ of value.

The second best scenario was getting one of their identities.

The ambiance of the lair suddenly seemed to shift. Sensing a change in the atmosphere, the butterflies faltered in flapping their wings, before they jerked to a halt. The sound died, and all that remained was an impossible, eerie silence.

 **...**

He watched.

 **...**

And then he smiled.

 **...**

 _"I found you, Marinette."_

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **wake me up**

 **...**

 ****Cross-posted on AO3**

 ****Tumblr: chatnono**


	3. Hum

**Notes: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 3: Hum**_

* * *

 **...**

 **Twelve Hours Later**

 **...**

Alya slowly traipsed her way to Ms. Bustier's classroom, both exhausted from the events of the disaster that was the previous night, as well as in no rush to reach her destination anytime soon. Everyone was surprised to wake up and find that the Miraculous Cure had been released sometime in the middle of the night, and despite the trauma of everything that happened yesterday, with the building repaired and the akuma defeated, the school board didn't see any reason for classes to be canceled.

As she passed by them, Alya pointedly avoided looking at the groups of students flanking either sides of the hallway, who were whispering to each other with wide eyes and astonished voices. It wasn't that she was upset or uncomfortable with them, but rather, that she was upset and uncomfortable with herself. Because she knew, she _knew,_ had Ladybug been revealed as a faceless student she didn't personally know, she would have been one of them. She would've been babbling like an idiot, excited and astonished—and of course worried for her—but _wow,_ Ladybug was a student at her school! Her idol had been _right under her nose!_ And then, she would have liked to think of herself as being much more sympathetic and mature than the others, when in reality she wouldn't have been any less shallow and foolish.

The words 'ignorance is bliss' had never held quite as much weight as they did now.

A yawn escaped Alya's mouth, accidentally interrupting her thoughts, and Alya rubbed her eyes tiredly beneath her glasses. She had, unsurprisingly, received a grand total of zero hours of sleep the previous night, too overcome with freaking out and fruitlessly trying to answer the millions of questions rampaging through her brain to even consider the prospect of lying still. The one time she did attempt to rest and closed her eyes, Alya ended up reliving the exact second that Ladybug had hit the ground turned into her best friend with a flash of pink light. She relived the air rushing out of her lungs like an avalanche rushing down a hill, and the scream bubbling up her throat and threatening to spill out of her lips. She remembered her hands going slack and her arms falling to her sides, unintentionally dropping her still-streaming phone to the pavement. She remembered how the voices and movements of the bustling people surrounding her went completely unregistered. And Alya relived the sickening instant that the fear for her favorite hero's life exploded into something far, far more acute than she'd ever experienced, than she was even prepared for. Granted, she hadn't exactly been prepared to discover that Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the first place.

Alya could still feel the ghost of Nino's fingers unconsciously digging into her forearm as Marinette had begun to sit up. It was then that something snapped, and a waterfall of broken thoughts washed through Alya's head, clearing out any coherent ones that might have been trying to cling for life on the edges of her sanity. The memories were more blurred and chopped from then on—all she'd known was that, superhero identities aside, Marinette _needed_ her and she needed to _get_ to her, but Nino _wasn't letting **go**_ —

...And then, in a blink, she was gone.

She didn't remember Nino guiding her home. She didn't know at what point she'd stopped resisting his pull, or when their feet started walking side by side away from the frantically dispersing mob. The authorities had finally arrived, and they were trying to contain a situation that had already crumbled to pieces. The paramedics helped the nearly forgotten akuma victim. Police officials discussed starting a search. Alya was numb.

Why didn't she fight? Why didn't she go after her? Why was she walking away? She tried to turn around, but something was holding her back, and it wasn't just Nino's hand. Something deep inside of her was telling her to keep walking. She didn't know why she was listening to it.

She hadn't even realized that they had made it to her apartment until she was standing in the doorway with her mother's arms wrapped around her tightly. Alya quickly looked over her shoulder, but Nino had already vanished. The numb feeling was still there.

Marlena lead her daughter inside the house. The television was droning on in the background, and Alya almost immediately picked up Marinette's name get mentioned by a news reporter. Shaking, Alya rediscovered her strength, and she wrenched herself out of her mother's grip as gently as she could, before quickly walking to her bedroom and locking the door shut. She stumbled over to her bed and sat down on the edge, staring stunned at the wall, and finally let the newfound information present itself.

Marinette was Ladybug. The same Marinette that Alya has known since school started. The same Marinette who stood up for all her friends against Chloé's antagonistic personality. The same Marinette who was kind to everyone and was unbelievably reliable. The same Marinette who made birthday presents for her classmates and was constantly sharing sweets from her parents' bakery. The same Marinette who wanted to be a famous fashion designer and had worked for years to get as talented as she was. The same Marinette who was clumsy and shy and a worrier but was also loud and reckless and a risk taker. The same Marinette who adored Adrien Agreste so much that she could barely look him in the eyes, because she somehow believed she wasn't good enough for him.

That same sweet, goofy, brave Marinette was now in a calamitously immense amount of peril, just because she was more brave and burning and amazing than Alya had been too vacuous to realize.

Alya swallowed back her tears and leaned over to where she'd dropped her backpack. She opened the flap and pulled out her laptop, noticing that someone had carefully slipped her phone back inside there as well. Luckily it hadn't suffered any damage from its fall, completely uncracked and still functioning. There were already over a hundred text messages and over three hundred notifications from the Ladyblog, but she just turned her phone on silent.

She had half a mind to text Nino and thank him. Or say she was sorry. Instead she placed it on her night stand, promising to do it later, and powered on her computer.

The rest of the night was spent with Alya sitting on her bed in front of her screen, constantly checking for any news or updates about Marinette's whereabouts. But most of the stories, posts and reports about her were discussing the shock of Ladybug's impromptu reveal, who she was, what this could mean for Paris, etc. And the sources she did manage to find didn't have anything new to report; Ladybug nor Marinette had been sighted since she left the Eiffel Tower. She was still missing.

It wasn't until the clock reached 01h00 that Alya finally let herself detach from her laptop for a short break. She snuck out of her room, past her sleeping sisters' room and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She quietly grabbed a cup and turned on the faucet low, not wanting to attract the attention of and be forced to confront her still-awake parents in their nearby bedroom. Their voices were soft, but Alya's trained eavesdropping ears only needed to pick up a few choice words to realize they were trying to console Marinette's parents over the phone. The water ended up doing nothing to make her mouth feel any less dry.

A few minutes later, when she was back in her room, Alya finally decided to post something to the Ladyblog. She had been avoiding it all night, mainly because she had no idea what she was supposed to say to her significant mass of followers. No matter what she said, she wouldn't have been able to fix anything that mattered. She couldn't undo Ladybug's fall or her detransformation or her flee. She would undo it all if she could, even if it meant that Marinette would still be keeping this secret from her. If Marinette was with her, living and breathing and loving and _happy,_ Alya would allow her to keep as many secrets as she so pleased.

Honestly, Alya wasn't all that perturbed by Marinette keeping her identity a secret from her. Even though it was a big deal, Alya knew who her best friend was at heart, and her being Ladybug didn't change that. Because the two people she admired the most turning out to be one amazing girl only amplified those feelings doubly as much.

She knew that Marinette would've only kept this from her if she believed it was the right thing to do. And in what position was Alya to counter that?

So, was she angry? No. Upset? No. Disappointed? Never.

Scared? Try terrified.

Alya wished she could put all her feelings into words. It should've been easy—as an aspiring journalist, putting her thoughts on a page in an organized way was something she could do in her sleep. At least, it usually was.

It took hours of Alya typing and retyping paragraphs of her thoughts before she decided this wasn't working. She had been trying to make her words sound sincere, but they alternated between being too messy or too dry. She deleted the entire script and stared at her screen with bleary eyes. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Then, she typed out one sentence, and finally clicked send, just as the sunlight started to spill onto the end of her bed.

 **...**

 ** _Please come home, Marinette._**

 **...**

Alya paused in front of Ms. Bustier's classroom, one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching the strap of her backpack in a death grip. She wasn't even in the room yet, but she was already beginning to regret declining her parents' offer to stay home and rest until she was more emotionally and energetically sound. But, she knew that if she didn't go to school, if she didn't at least try to act like everything was normal, then the stress and fear would consume her. Alya needed the distraction of other people and schoolwork to occupy her thoughts instead of everything else hanging over her head.

Most of the students had already arrived by the time Alya walked in, but the room might as well have been empty. Almost everyone was silent, barring a few people engaged in hushed conversations here and there. The atmosphere was dismal and tense, and the usual upbeat pre-class chatter was unnervingly absent, missing along with their black-haired classmate. Even Chloé, who was notorious for dishing insensitive comments whenever and to whomever she pleased, was strangely untalkative (although, clearly as narcissistic as ever, as she obsessively touched up her makeup in front of a hand mirror and didn't bat an eyelash to the sobriety surrounding her).

Eyes fell on Alya as they heard the door close, and she struggled to stop herself from ducking her head. She quickly walked towards her desk and kept her eyes trained on her seat in an effort to ignore the sympathetic stares of her peers. Everyone that had ever met Alya and Marinette, especially their classmates, knew that the two were much closer to each other than anyone else at school. If anyone there was affected the most by yesterday's events, it was her. But she didn't want their sympathy. She wanted to be left alone.

Alya felt someone rest a hand on the crown of her head. When she peeked up, she found herself coming face-to-face with her boyfriend. There were bags under his eyes, as she supposed she must've had as well, and his face was terribly grim in a way that didn't suit his normally content and relaxed features. For a dismaying second, Alya realized she forgot to text him, and she instantly felt guilty, even if he didn't ask her to do it personally.

"How are you?" he asked quietly, in lieu of a greeting.

Alya sat up a little straighter, and tried and failed to give him a smile. She managed to keep her voice from wavering. "I'm... doing okay. Considering the circumstances."

Nino nodded and fiddled with his headphones. He seemed to be floundering for something to say to cheer her up, but Alya didn't blame him. She wouldn't know what to tell him if he were in her place, either.

She decided to help him out. "Do you think Adrien would mind if I stole his seat for today? I don't..." She let out a shaky breath. "I don't want to sit alone today."

The question made Nino light up. "Are we even talking about the same Adrien? Of course he wouldn't mind."

Gathering her stuff and sitting next to Nino did end up helping her feel better, but later when Ms. Bustier arrived and class finally began, she ended up not even trying to listen to the lecture. All she could focus on the entire time was the daunting stillness discharging from the empty seat behind her, and how she wished she could believe that Marinette was just coming late to class like she always did. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend. But that didn't make the chair any less vacant.

She was so preoccupied with this that she didn't even notice when Adrien failed to show up.

Alya loved excitement and surprise. She loved crawling into uncharted territory, loved the idea of digging up clues and secrets and solving mysteries. She'd never feared the unknown—she was the one who went out and sought it and _challenged_ it. She loved charging into battles head first (both figuratively and literally) without giving herself any time to doubt or think twice. It had gotten her into trouble before, and she knew it would get her into trouble again, but she couldn't recall a time where she'd ever regretted being bold and taking risks. Injuries and punishment and hurt feelings and hard work gone to waste weren't seen as consequences, but rather were brushed off as occupational hazards.

But this... this was not the excitement she liked, the one whose danger and uncertainty and ability to take her breath away made it all the more thrilling. This time, there was so much more at stake: relationships and dreams and lives that she wasn't willing to lose. The danger and uncertainty shook her to the core and left her breathless in a bad, bad way.

Alya needed to find Marinette. Because, without Marinette, she was going to go missing, too.

* * *

Chat took it back. He took everything back. He didn't want to know who she was anymore.

He didn't care if that meant he would've never found out. He would've lived. He would've moved on, grown, realized that it didn't matter how desperate he was to find out his partner's identity. It had nothing to do with him or what he wanted. It was her choice, all her choice, and if her choice was to stay masked, then so be it.

Chat had imagined the day that he discovered Ladybug's identity in a radically different way. For one, they would've been alone, and it would have been her decision to release her transformation. And then he'd see her, see the girl behind that mask, and it wouldn't matter if he knew her or not or if she wasn't exactly what he expected her to be. Because she would still be smart and funny and brave and so wondrously gorgeous that Chat wouldn't understand how an unlucky enigma such as himself could've gotten so lucky as to have such an amazing person in his life.

And then, he—he'd have her. He'd have _all_ of her, and she'd have all of him, and for once in his broken life he could finally have something _complete._

Chat Noir wasn't feeling very complete right now.

The hero landed with a weighted 'thump' on the roof of a building and bent over, finally letting himself catch his breath. He had searched all the way through sunset and sunrise, with no breaks except ones to recharge and the one for Plagg to purify the akuma (which was apparently an ability that all kwamis possessed that just weren't passed on to their heroes). His tired, beaten body was in no shape for a workout of this measure—or any workout, for that matter—but he couldn't dare to quit. He needed to find Ladybug. Marinette. Both of them.

Now that he knew they were the same person, he couldn't... he couldn't help but feel stupid. The longer he thought about it the more connections and similarities he made between the heroine and his friend, and the more he realized just how obvious it had been. Of course, he'd made comparisons between the two in the past—most of the time, they were hard to overlook—and he'd had her higher on his personal 'possibly Ladybug' list than most. But how _ignorant_ he'd been to brush those suspicions off as illusions.

Why had he done that, anyway? Why didn't he let himself believe it was Marinette? That was the only connection he couldn't seem to make. Now he couldn't help but wonder if knowing her identity in advance could have prevented this from happening. Maybe he would've been able to help her faster, with less shock and confusion clouding his head. Or, at the very least, he might've had the chance to convince her to stay...

No. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd known. She still would've fallen, and she still would've been revealed. Besides, she... she made it _conspicuously_ clear that she was not ready to reveal her identity, which made this whole mess that much worse.

(His mind drifted, unwillingly, to memories of a cold February night on the Eiffel Tower and an identity conversation gone very _very_ wrong, and if he hadn't felt sick before, he sure did now.)

Nonetheless, he still wondered what it might have been like if they'd revealed themselves to each other. Maybe she would've been more comfortable around him if she'd known he was her heroic partner. She did seem to be growing warmer to Adrien as of late, even if it was only a little bit. He imagined them acting as tenderly out of the suits as they did in, and he could see it: the two of them bantering throughout the day and making jokes with each other, sharing secrets and sneaking off in unison during Akuma attacks, holding hands and spending lunch together without Alya and Nino, Marinette leaning over her desk to whisper something in his ear in the middle of class, the ends her pigtails accidentally tickling the back of his neck...

Chat put his head in his hands.

Call him selfish, but in addition to all of the other horrible things gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours, the timing of Marinette's reveal could not have been more inopportune for him, because he had _just_ started to move on. Really. He'd begun taking a few steps away from Ladybug—not too many that he completely lost sight of her, but enough for him to view other options without being completely blinded by black and red—and, at the very least, he'd been willing to try. He'd actually been beginning to take action. But now she had him tangled up all over again, entwined in something so unbelievably labyrinthine that he _knew_ he wouldn't be able to get himself out again.

He wished he knew where she was. He wished he could know she was safe. He wished he could hold her in his arms. He wished he could be with her right now to help her battle her fear, because he knew from experience how dangerous a troubled mind could be when it didn't have someone there to help take their troubles away.

He _really_ wished he could see her face.

Chat Noir was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice that his ring had been beeping for the last five minutes. Without anymore warning, there was a burst of green light, and Plagg flew out of his ring. And, without the extra strength provided by the suit, Adrien's legs gave out and he fell backwards onto his butt. A few seconds later, Plagg landed face-down on his charge's head and groaned, involuntarily receiving a mouthful of dirty golden hair. He spit it out. "Eugh, _someone_ needs a shower."

Adrien ignored his kwami and reached into his shirt to pull out more cheese. He looked mournfully at his penultimate box of camembert; at the rate his search for Marinette was going, this wasn't going to last them as long as he would need it to.

Plagg seemed to notice this as well, because his ears flattened against his head, and his voice softened, like he was trying to brace Adrien for something harsh. "...Adrien—"

His hand tightened around the box. "No, Plagg."

Plagg wilted ever so slightly. "We have to."

"I'm not turning around."

"This isn't a choice."

"There's two more boxes! That's still _hours_ left—"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not just talking about the cheese, and you know it."

The two of them stared at each other angrily. Plagg's eyes narrowed further. Adrien was the first to look away.

Plagg flittered closer to his charge's face, his voice growing increasingly more exasperated. "I thought you were supposed to be _smart._ What was your plan? To search until I couldn't transform you anymore? Until you wore yourself out so much that you couldn't move any further? Whichever one came first?!"

Adrien clenched his hands into fists.

"Great strategy. But there's one problem—what were you going to do _after_ that? How were you going to get back home? Were you going to crawl across seven arrondissements? It doesn't matter how badly you want to find her. You're not _invincible,_ kid!"

The only sound that followed was the kwami's heavy breathing. He backed away as his anger quickly wore off, and went silent. His charge refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry," Plagg eventually said, his voice softer. Adrien was mildly impressed that he even had those words in his vocabulary. "I know it's hard, and I know it's not fair, but we _can't_ keep going like this." He'd never seen Plagg look so upset. "Please. Listen to me."

Adrien wanted to. He really wanted to. This was Plagg taking a risk—being open and honest and laying out all his emotions on the table at his charge's expense, and Adrien wanted to honor that. But this wasn't about himself. "I don't have a choice," he whispered. "I can't."

"Of course you—"

"No," Adrien said, his voice more forceful. More desperate. More frightened. His thoughts were growing more and more disarrayed, and his words began to ramble. "Damn it, Plagg, this is all my fault. It was so stupid for us to split up. I let all my guards down. I knew the akuma was bad news and I knew it was a risk but I let her go anyway. It was my job to protect her, but now she's lost, hurt, and everyone knows who she is. _Hawk Moth_ knows who she is." He clenched his eyes shut, his voice wavering. "I managed to fail her three times over in less than that many seconds."

It was true. His Lady had been relying on him. Paris had been relying on him. _He_ had been relying on him. And he let them all down.

He needed to find her. Right now, that was the best he could do to make up for his incompetence.

Adrien felt his throat tighten. It was all his fault. His composure was quickly deteriorating. "Plagg, I—I can't stop. I can't stop looking. She's hurt and alone and she could be _dying_ and I need to find her and fix this before—"

 _"Breathe,_ Adrien," Plagg commanded, and after a second Adrien closed his mouth. He tried and failed to take a deep breath and ended up coughing on his lungs. Plagg was staring at him, his face clouded with an emotion awfully akin to worry. Adrien found himself nearing dangerously close to hyperventilation.

In his tired state, a memory that had been shoved in the darkness of Adrien's mind had bubbled to the surface. It was distant, but he was recalling something his mother once said to him as a child when he woke up crying from a nightmare.

 _'Shhh, don't cry. Don't cry. It's alright Adrien. Take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe in and count with me: un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept; good, very good. Now breathe out: onze, dix, neuf, huit, sept...'_

He listened to his mother's counting repeat in his head, and he let it guide his own breathing pattern. Breathe in for seven, breathe out for eleven. It took a few minutes and numerous cycles for Adrien to finally calm down, but when he got there, he felt no relief. If anything, with his head more clear, he felt even more defeated.

 _It was all his fault._

Adrien felt a small pressure on his forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Plagg pressing a comforting paw on his head. The kwami's eyes were wide. "Adrien?"

Adrien swatted his hand at Plagg, but Plagg moved out of the way before his palm could make contact with his face. He wanted to sound snappish, but his voice came out too weak. "I'm fine."

"...I don't know what you want from me," Plagg prefaced, his voice underlying with irritation, but sounding mostly crestfallen. "I can't force you to go home. But if you do manage to find Ladybug now, you aren't going to be any help to her when you can't even stand on your own two feet."

"It doesn't matter. She needs me," he murmured. He curled his legs up to his chest. "The longer I wait, the longer she's alone, and I can't just sit down and relax while she's frantic and injured." Adrien put his head to his knees. "And you how important her identity is to her."

Plagg's face softened with understanding. "I know," he agreed.

Adrien glanced up from his knees, not expecting to have received a concurring answer.

The kwami moved forward. "I also know that the Ladybug we know would want you to put yourself before her. She wouldn't care what you were doing or how important your mission was, she would want you to stop and regain your bearings."

He bit his lip, still hesitant.

Plagg pressed on. "Ladybug can handle herself for a little longer. She's a fighter. And even if she doesn't have you, she's got Tikki with her, who's actually good at this whole 'cheering up' thing."

Adrien cracked a small smile, but quickly wiped it off. Plagg's words were breaking him, but he had to stand his ground. "I don't deserve to rest. I let myself get caught, and now she's hurt. I couldn't protect her, and now her identity is out there for the public. I couldn't stop her in time, and now she's gone." He deflated, curling up tighter. "This is all my fault."

Plagg slit his eyes. His nostrils flared. "This is _not_ your fault, Adrien."

"It is."

"It's not."

"It is!"

"It's **_not."_**

Adrien looked down at his hands pensively for the longest time, slowly mulling over his thoughts. Plagg sounded so sure. He wanted to believe him. Eventually he looked up. "Plagg."

"Kid."

"...I'm scared."

Plagg was quiet. "I know."

"I don't want to go back."

"I know."

"Marinette needs me."

"I know."

"I feel like I'm giving up on her."

Plagg shook his head sincerely. "You're not. We're going to find her. This is the right choice."

Adrien swallowed. Took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Opened them.

He sure hoped it was.

 _"Plagg, claws out."_

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **This is late. I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me.**

 **I got approximately seven billion requests for Adrien's reaction. I gave you Adrien AND Alya. I'm an overachiever.**

 **(The aforementioned Adrien and Alya are way too stubborn and hard on themselves and it's no one's fault but the author's.)**

 _ **I'm in love with all of you why are you so nice to mee**_

 ****Cross-posted on AO3**

 ****Tumblr: chatnono**


	4. Groan

**(this is late.)(like really late.)(oops.)**

 **Happy Thanksgiving!**

 **Warning: blood/injury, vomit, anxiety**

 ****I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 4:**_ _**Groan**_

* * *

Alya unlocked her apartment door and walked inside, Nino one step behind her. She closed and relocked the door before stuffing her keys back in her bag and flipping on the lights. Her sisters were at school and her parents were at work, so the two of them were by themselves. Normally she would go out with her friends for lunch to avoid this loneliness, but... it wouldn't have been the same without everyone there. That was okay, though; those few hours of school already managed to surpass her personal quota of daily interaction, and if she was going to get through the rest of this day, she needed to spend some time isolating her body and mind from all distractions. Besides Nino, that is.

"Your mom has everything in here," Nino remarked, holding open the refrigerator door. She hadn't noticed him move into the kitchen. "I guess I shouldn't expect anything less from a chef." He pulled out an apple and turned to her. "Do you want anything?"

Alya shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not hungry."

He shrugged, closed the door and opened a nearby cabinet. "Suit yourself," he said, pulling out a large bag of potato chips.

Alya knew he was trying to sound indifferent, because he knew how much she hated being pushed, but his masked concern was poorly concealed from her trained eyes. She tried to mitigate his worry through teasing. "An apple and chips? Now that's what I call a balanced meal."

Nino glanced at her for a fleeting moment in shock, before his face melted into a mock-hurt expression. "Are you judging me?"

Alya leaned against the counter. "Read it and weep, boy."

"I can't believe this," he said, aghast. Alya snickered and he took a spiteful bite out of his apple. He looked down at the chips. "By the way, if I accidentally eat this entire bag, I apologize in advance."

Alya shoved him on the shoulder. "Ugh, you're such a _pig."_

Nino grinned at her. "But I'm _your_ pig."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but Alya didn't try to wipe the smile off her face. She was relieved to know that, even now, Nino was still able to cheer her up, no matter how temporarily the mindless moment might've lasted.

And temporary it was. The two of them sat down at the counter, but they could no longer think of anything to say. And without talking to each other, there was no longer any excuse for them to ignore that giant elephant in the middle of the room. Alya was never one to dwell on her hurt, which included discussing and dissecting the things that truly upset her. She knew that Nino was just avoiding bringing up yesterday so as to not hurt her feelings, but they both knew they would need to talk about sooner or later. She decided she needed to say something now, when she was feeling fractionally more capable of facing her problems than she had been before.

Alya took a deep breath.

"...Thanks for walking me home yesterday," she started softly.

Nino froze. "Yeah," was all he replied.

Her heart thrummed anxiously. She suddenly wasn't feeling very capable anymore. "I... uh..."

His voice was tight. "It's okay, Alya, you don't have to—"

"No! I mean, I..." She gulped. "I need to do this."

Nino looked down, but he nodded for her to continue.

Alya opened her mouth.

Then paused.

"...What is that?"

Nino looked up. "Huh?"

But she wasn't staring at him. Nino followed her gaze out the window. At first he had no idea what she was talking about, but after a moment of searching, he saw it: a small, black object was sitting outside on the windowsill.

She stood up. "How did that get there?"

"It's probably just trash or something," he guessed, but he stood up as well. Even if it was litter, the apartment was on the third floor, and the window sill was moderately narrow. It would be very difficult—if even possible—for it to land there by accident.

Alya opened the window carefully and picked up the object. It was a box, and it wasn't very heavy, but it was surprisingly ornate. It was hexagon-shaped and wooden, with a red design engraved on the top. She glanced out the window to the rickety fire escape. It was a bit of a stretch, but if someone was standing there, they could have been able to reach the window.

Who the hell would go through all that trouble to place some weird box on her window sill?

She bit her lip. "I don't think this is just trash."

Nino shook his head in agreement. "It looks like a... jewelry box?"

Alya placed her hand on the lid, ready to open it, and hesitated. She didn't know why she was so scared of a little box, but there was something so antique and cryptic about it that she couldn't help but feel wary of its contents. The fact that someone had placed on the windowsill of her _apartment_ of all places did nothing to help satiate her concerns. If they wanted to stay unknown, placing the box on the doorstep or sending it in the mail would have both been much simpler and equally as effective methods of delivery. And, even then, the mysterious, unlabeled box appearing at her house out of nowhere would not fail to confuse her any less.

Alya shook her head. What was _happening_ to her? Alya couldn't remember a time in her life when she thought through such a simple decision. She was being way too paranoid, even if it wasn't entirely uncalled for. Before she could waste anymore time on doubt, she gripped the lid and flipped it open.

At first, all she saw were two ordinary earrings, which was baffling all on its own, but before she had any more time to inspect them, there was a startling explosion of pink light. Alya dropped the box on the floor with a shriek and accidentally tripped backwards into Nino. The two of them fell and slammed into the base of the counter. Nino groaned and Alya quickly looked up, her heart pounding rapidly against her rib cage.

Sitting in the middle of the floor was a small, pink... creature, with a black dot on its forehead and two long antennae. It rubbed its head and groaned in a squeaky voice.

Alya felt her heart leap out the open window.

Nino choked and scrambled to hide behind his girlfriend. His glasses were crooked. "W-wh— _what_ — _?!"_

Alya was feeling light headed. "I—I—I don't—"

The thing looked up at them and blinked, clearly dazed and weary. It had blue eyes.

Nino's eyes widened. "Is it a _bug?"_

"A ladybug," Alya breathed, her eyes widening as well.

The supposed 'ladybug' stared at Alya confusedly. "...Alya?"

The two jerked back in shock at her voice. Nino nearly banged his head against the counter. Alya felt her bones turn into liquid. Her speech stuttered. "T-that's me?"

Those words seemed to trigger something in her, because the ladybug let out a gasp and suddenly flew up in panic. She quickly spun around, her eyes analyzing in the unexciting apartment before they landed back on the speechless teenagers. The weariness that laid in her eyes only seconds before was now replaced by horror. Then they started growing glassy as they filled with tears.

And then she started to cry.

Nino and Alya looked at each other in disbelief. They were more confused than scared at this point, but Alya was slowly connecting her thoughts. She... she could've just been thinking too far into it, but...

Alya reached out a timid hand, and touched the ladybug's small head. The bug looked up as the contact, her tears glistening in the light. She wrapped her arms around her body. "She really left me here," she whimpered to herself.

Alya slowly leaned closer, still feeling apprehensive. She stumbled over her words. "Are you—do y— _what_ are you?"

The ladybug rubbed her eye, and tried to compose herself. She sniffled. "My name is Tikki." Tikki paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "I..." Her shoulders slumped. "...I'm what allowed Marinette to... transform into Ladybug."

Those few words grabbed their attention in a death grip. Nino leaned forward too. "W-wait— _you know_ Marinette?"

Tikki bowed her head. "I did."

"Did?" Alya asked, her voice slowly growing more anxious. "What do you mean _did?_ Did something happen to her? Is she okay? I-is she still—"

"She's alive," Tikki assured quietly. "But she's..."

"What? What is she?" Alya pressed.

Her lip quivered. "She's in trouble."

* * *

 **...**

 **Eighteen Hours Earlier**

 **...**

Ladybug hadn't been running for very long before her earrings began to beep, but she had certainly run far. Not wanting to keep Tikki waiting any longer, she took this as her cue to find someplace to hide. She darted down a few more blocks, quickly calculating her surroundings, before finding the perfect place: a small alley in between two closed buildings. It was dark, narrow, and cluttered with trash cans, but it was easy to miss if you weren't looking for it, which was the type of concealment she needed. Ladybug looked over her shoulder one last time, and when she saw that she was once again not being watched, she swung into the shadows.

She landed unsteadily on her feet. The yo-yo slipped from her fingers and rolled across the dirty asphalt until it hit a trash can. Ladybug collapsed against the brick wall behind her, fighting hard to stop herself from puking. The adrenaline that got her here was fading rapidly, and she could no longer ignore the agony consuming her nerves. She curled her sore limbs to herself and gasped for air, trying to remain as still as possible to attenuate as much of the pain as she could. Her earrings gave a final beep before Tikki flew out, nearly exhausted to the point of passing out. Marinette had to force her arm to grab her purse, and she shakily passed the bag to the tired kwami, who almost cried at the sight of her favorite treats before diving into the cookies head first.

After a minute, Tikki poked her head out. With her hunger satisfied and her strength mostly restored, she refocused all of her attention back on her charge. "How bad is it?" she asked nervously.

Marinette curled up tighter. "Bad." To put it lightly.

Tikki exited the bag entirely. "What hurts?"

She quietly moaned and clenched her eyes shut. It was too painful to talk. _"Everything."_

"Can you tell me the worst parts?"

Marinette shook her head, but instantly regretted the motion. The needles were stabbing her brain again, but this time they felt more like knives, slicing through her head all the way to the hilt. The sudden onset of pain made her head spin vigorously, and this time Marinette couldn't stop the bile from rising up her throat. She quickly leaned to the side and gagged as her lunch came back up.

Luckily it didn't take very long for her stomach to empty, and Marinette tiredly leaned back into a sitting position against the wall, blatantly ignoring the vomit not too far from her. Tikki wiped her messy hair out of her face and placed a tiny hand on her forehead. Her voice was heavy. "...You're already burning up."

Marinette shifted away from the kwami's touch and curled up again. She leaned her head against the wall and fought to ignore the terribly unpalatable taste left in her mouth. That, along with her dry throat and rising temperature, was more than enough reason for her to long for a glass of water, especially after running and fighting for as long as she did.

(Focusing on such a relatively small problem didn't completely distract her from the entire iceberg of dilemmas sitting underneath it, but it helped her from going any deeper. Marinette needed to do everything in her immediate power to stay on the surface, because, if she let herself go under again, she didn't think she would've been capable of pulling herself out of the water a second time.)

The tired girl was revived from her thoughts by Tikki's vaguely hopeful voice. "I-I think I recognize this place. There should be a hospital around here. I don't think it's very far—"

 _"No,"_ Marinette quickly cut in. Her throat burned and her voice was raspy. "No one can know where I am."

"I'm sure if you asked them to treat you secretly—"

"We can't trust them." Marinette's arm shifted on her torso, and she stifled a scream. She still hadn't gathered the courage to look at what she knew was a very bad burn.

Tikki paced anxiously midair. She tugged on her antenna before she turned back to Marinette with a new idea. "What about Master Fu? It's perfect! He's a healer, and he already knows your identi—"

"No!" she snapped, ignoring the pain in her throat. "I can't go! I can't! Don't you understand?!"

Tikki flinched, but she didn't cower back. She stayed in place for a moment before she slowly lowered herself down towards Marinette's face. "...Understand what?"

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair, trying to control her breathing. She swallowed thickly. "I can't go back. Ever."

"Of course you can," Tikki said. "What makes you think—"

"They _know,_ Tikki," she said. "They all know. My parents, Alya, Adrien, the whole school—and Chat..." Marinette sagged against the wall. "I... Oh, they must be so _angry."_

"They must be so _scared,"_ corrected Tikki. "No one could ever be angry at you, Mari. It's not possible."

Marinette didn't seem to hear her. "They were never supposed to know. I never wanted to hurt them. But now they know what a big fraud I am." She tugged on her hair. "They'll never trust me again. They hate me. I can't go back."

Tikki was aghast. "No, no, they could _never_ hate you—!"

"They won't want to see me." Her voice was vacant. "They'll be so disappointed. Disgusted."

"It's _just a mask,_ Marinette!" the kwami insisted, her voice growing more and more desperate. "Ladybug is you! Everything she does, everything she is—it's all _you."_

"It doesn't matter. Don't you understand?" Marinette felt an obscene weight of weariness lower over her. "They don't want her to be me."

"What on earth—"

"Ladybug is _everything!"_ She clenched her eyes shut. "She's courageous and intelligent and _ethereal,_ and look at me!" Marinette opened her eyes and looked down at the large patch of blood on her once white shirt. "I... I'm... nothing."

Tikki stood there with wide eyes. For the first time, she was completely speechless.

Marinette closed her eyes again, trying and failing to slow down her breathing. She dug her fingers into her skull, ignoring the pain. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I can't do this anymore."

Tikki was shaking. "S-stop. Stop—"

"Don't you understand? Don't you—" Marinette swallowed her tears. She couldn't let herself cry. "Please understand me."

 _"Marinette_ — _"_

 _"Please,"_ she begged. She looked up and met Tikki's horrified eyes with her shattered ones. "I need you to understand."

"No! No! _You_ need to understand!" Her eyes were filling with tears. _"You_ are my Ladybug! No one else! Only you can do this!"

With a deep breath, Marinette braced herself against the wall, and she slowly hauled herself to her feet. Her legs shook, and most of her weight was being supported by the wall, but she managed to turn around and face Tikki with a stony face that broke the kwami's heart in two. She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Tears fell down her face. "N—no."

"I'm _sorry."_

"Wh—Stop!"

"Please forgive me."

 _ **"Marinette**_ **— _"_**

 **...**

"Spots on."

 **...**

* * *

Ladybug couldn't go inside the apartment building. It was too risky that she would be spotted by one of its many residents or staff members, even if it was late at night. All it took was one person to recognize her for her to be tracked down. So, rather than going through the building itself, she landed on the sidewalk and used the fire escape to ascend up the side of the structure, until she was on the same level as Alya's apartment.

The heroine exhaled and sat down to catch her breath. It had taken her nearly three hours to get here, even with her enhanced speed and endurance. She'd had to push herself to move quickly on the way here, and had to stop several times to let herself rest. She also had to make a quick detour to her house, where she snuck into her room via her balcony and retrieved a few things. One of those things being the small box in her hands.

She shakily placed the box inside the bag she got from her room and stood up. There was one last thing Ladybug had to do for Paris before she left.

Tossing her yo-yo in the air, she called "Miraculous Ladybug!" She watched as the pink ladybugs lit up the sky and cast themselves across the city, repairing what had been damaged for far too long. However, Ladybug still felt the same. She'd been expecting it, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

This was it. This was the end. She'd done her best, but it would never be enough. After everything she had accomplished, she still stood here, quitting. She... she was a failure.

But that was fine. It was better this way. It should have been Alya from the beginning—Alya was so strong and smart and so _deserving_. This was her correcting a mistake, not making one.

Ladybug pulled out the first earring, and that was all it took for the suit to be ripped off of her. Marinette shakily but quickly removed the second earring before picking up the box. She could feel Tikki's ghost hovering behind her, breathing down her neck, radiating with disapproval and heartache, but she shut the lid before she could let it change her mind.

Marinette reached over the railing, placed the miraculous on the windowsill, and let her arm fall limply to her side. The longer she stared at the box, the more it began to seem like a small casket. She forced herself to tear her eyes away, and she began her descent down the fire escape, ignoring the pain in her heart that begged her to return.

When she reached the last step, the begging finally died away, and she was finally free. But instead of feeling free, she felt hollow. Empty. Incomplete.

She stepped forward.

Her footsteps were off kilter. Her breathing was ragged, her body numb and tired. She could feel the timer ticking on her consciousness, every tick in sync with every step across the street.

With one last step, she slipped out of sight, and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

 **...**

 **Present**

 **...**

"...I was forced back into the earrings after she resigned," Tikki explained dolefully, after summarizing what happened in the alley, "so I don't know what happened afterwards. She must've gone back to her house to get the box, and then... left me with you."

"Why would she do that?" Alya whispered, her voice choked. She nor Nino had spoken the entire time, too busy processing the meaning of Tikki's words to interrupt for questions or clarification. Now, her own voice sounded foreign to her ears.

Tikki's shoulders slumped. "Back when Marinette first got the miraculous, she thought she was the worst person to possibly be chosen to be a hero. When she failed to purify Stoneheart's akuma the first time around, she thought this proved everything she believed, and that she had been foolish to even try." Her expression turned more sour as she reminisced further. "Marinette gave up the miraculous then, too, and passed it to someone she believed was more deserving of it." Tikki looked directly at Alya. "She gave it to _you."_

"What?" she spluttered. "She—she never did that! This is the first time I've ever—"

"Mari said she slipped the box into your backpack when you weren't looking," Tikki explained. "But then you ran off without your bag to chase after Stoneheart, so she chased after you, but _then_ you were trapped by the car, and Chat couldn't do anything because he was trapped in the akuma's clutches, and—well, morally speaking, she didn't have much of choice."

Alya could only stare at her incredulously. "But—why me? Why would she—she barely even knew me! We only knew each other for, like, a _day_. She couldn't have seriously trusted me to be a hero more than herself."

Nino bit his lip. Tikki shifted uncomfortably. They shared a look with each other.

Alya got a sick feeling. "What is it?" she asked nervously.

Nino was tense as he struggled to speak. "...Marinette... was... she was a lot different, before you came here."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean? Different how?"

"Quieter. Shier. Taciturn. Unconfident." He listed them hesitantly, pausing between each word. "She never made an effort to branch out or stand up for herself. She was still friendly and thoughtful, and she would always humor people when they tried to talk to her, but it was kind of like she had her own little 'Marinette' world that nobody was allowed to enter. To some people it came off as kind of stuck-up, but I know she never intended for it to be like that... It was more like she was trying to guard herself."

Alya was silent. "Why would she... try to guard herself?"

Nino shrugged. "Introversion, I guess. It's not really something that can be explained. You're just... happy to be alone? Or you don't mind dealing with it." His voice dropped, and Alya was getting the feeling that he wasn't just referring to Marinette anymore. "Sometimes it's easier when you only have to look after yourself."

Alya knew she was the living definition of an extrovert. That was the main reason she didn't have many friends until she came to Dupont—her boldness had been strong enough to scare off potential companions. But just because she was bold didn't mean she couldn't grasp the mentality behind introversion. She'd seen those characteristics of shyness and doubt arise in Marinette before— _especially_ when it came to Adrien—but between her battles against Chloé, her long, over exaggerating rants, and her general leadership role in the class, somehow the words 'Marinette' and 'introvert' never crossed Alya's mind side by side.

"But, something changed," Nino continued. "I don't know what caused it... it was probably a mixture of things, between Ladybug, and Adrien, and _you,"_ he smiled, "but, she started standing up for herself, and for others. She became opinionated and proud, while still preserving her kindness. She became... well, she became the Marinette you know now." His eyes brightened. "She started this chain reaction. When she changed, everyone changed. Now our classmates are happier and more confident in themselves. She's just..."

"Inspiring," Alya whispered.

The brightness snuffed. "Yeah."

"Marinette has really grown," Tikki noted, finally speaking up. "But that doesn't mean she doesn't still have moments of disencouragement. She's just gotten better at containing them."

"What do you mean?" Alya asked.

Tikki looked uncomfortable. "She's so optimistic. She never lets her negative thoughts control her. But, now..."

Alya's eyes widened with realization. "She... She's vulnerable to an akuma."

"And Hawk Moth knows who she is," Nino said quietly, "so he's already searching for her anyway." He sagged against the counter. "Oh, shit."

"Wh-what do we do?" Alya looked at Tikki desperately. "Tikki, what—"

Tikki's expression transformed from distraught into determined. "We need to find Chat Noir."

Alya's face lit up with something awfully close to hope. "That's perfect! He's her best friend. I mean, after me." She shook her head. "The point is, he cares about her. Also he has super powers."

"Fantastic addition to our team," Nino concluded.

Alya hauled herself to her feet, Nino one beat behind her. They looked down at Tikki. "Let's go right now. What's his address?" Alya asked.

Tikki bit her lip.

Her face slowly fell. "...Tikki?"

"...I don't know who he is, Alya."

The words hit Alya like bullets. She grasped the counter to steady herself. Her burst of energy died out as soon as it had come.

"They... didn't know each other's identities?" Nino asked. "How... how did they—"

"They trust each other as much as Paris trusts them," Tikki declared. "It's so dangerous for anyone to know their identities, even each other."

"So this is news to him, too?" Alya asked. "He didn't know?"

"He didn't know," she confirmed.

Nino leaned against the counter. "So now what?"

Tikki instructed them, "Leave him a message on the Ladyblog. Keep it short, but urgent. Only say as much as necessary."

Alya stood up straight. She took a deep breath. "Tell me what to type."

 **...**

 **...**

 _ **Chat Noir,**_

 _ **We have some very important information regarding the whereabouts of Ladybug.**_

 _ **If you wish to hear it, meet us in front of Collège Françoise Dupont at 15h00.**_

 _ **Please come.**_

— _ **Alya**_

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **And then everything got so, so much worse.**

 ****Cross-posted on Ao3**

 ****Tumblr: chatnono**


	5. Thud

**Warning: blood/injury**

 **I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 5: Thud**_

* * *

The first thing Adrien did when he snuck in through his bedroom window was lay down and take a six-hour nap. He would've slept longer, but Plagg woke him up to tell him he _really_ needed to clean off before any of his injuries got infected. The kwami also added a rather insulting comment about his smell to counteract the showing-that-he-actually-cared thing, but Adrien rolled out of bed and grabbed a change of clothes to abide to Plagg's wishes nonetheless.

Adrien poked his head out from behind the bathroom door. "Wait out here," he ordered.

Plagg scowled and crossed his arms. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't want to watch you take a shower."

"There's camembert on the night stand," he said, ignoring the kwami's previous comment. He was about to shut the door, when he remembered, "Oh, and _please_ keep it out of my sock drawer this time. I don't want to have another—"

"Fine, fine, _go,"_ Plagg snapped, waving his hands in a 'shooing' motion. He turned away and went in the direction of the night stand, muttering under his breath.

It wasn't until the door clicked shut, when he was finally alone, that Adrien felt the exhaustion sink all the way into his bones. While his brain had marginally benefited from a few hours of sleep, it seemed that the rest didn't do anything to improve his physical state. Adrien swayed on his feet, requiring the support of the counter to remain upright. His stomach churned and he clenched his eyes shut to will the nausea to pass, but it luckily didn't take very long. After a few meticulous moments, Adrien finally felt the churning stop, and he let out a small sigh of relief. He stood upright again and opened his eyes, ready to begin undressing and to turn on the water, when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Adrien's face was pale and dusted in a layer of grime, complete with visible sweat tracks and a smear of dried blood on his cheek. He had a massive gash on his forehead and dark bruises along his neck and shoulders from when Falling Star pinned him down. His normally clean, blond hair was a monstrous nest of dirt, soot and sweat that fell limply in his face. There were bags under his eyes, and the eyes themselves were bordering far too close to lifeless, indicating just how tired he really was.

He was so, _so_ tired.

And sore. Really sore.

It took Adrien a few minutes before he finally managed to stretch his arms over his head and peel off his shirt. He took one look at the ripped, sweaty fabric and tossed it in the trash can. His pants and boxers faced the same fate. And his shoes. Adrien looked back in the mirror, checking cautiously for any other injuries, but there was nothing more than some bad bruising, shallow cuts, and minor burns. Nothing broken or sprained, no internal bleeding. Well, as far as he could tell.

When the shower was finally the correct temperature, Adrien eased himself underneath the stream of hot water, letting his tender skin adjust to the feeling before he sighed in relief. Adrien could feel his muscles loosen, and the feeling of hot liquid washing over his body was beyond relaxing. He hated to admit it, but Adrien knew that he'd really needed this. Badly so. Plagg's words hadn't been so empty after all.

He stood still for at least ten minutes, just letting himself unwind for the first time in too long, before he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing himself down. The more he washed himself, the water on the tiles turned a brown-grayish color as it ran into the drain. He scrubbed all his limbs, his torso, chest, neck, and face, careful not to press too hard on the bruises. The open wounds stung a little when brushed by the soap, some more than others, and tears pricked his eyes as he tried to clean his forehead. He couldn't even remember when he'd gotten slashed on the head; for all he knew, it could've been while he was searching for Ladybug. Marinette. Both of them.

It had slipped his mind. Just for a second. For one second, Marinette and Ladybug were part of two entirely separate worlds, and he was still juggling himself between both of them. Now, those worlds have collided, and everything he thought he'd known, everything he thought he'd figured out, was obliterated on impact. For a second, he didn't feel scared or guilty or just unfathomably horrid.

But now the second was gone, and he was standing in the shower, healing, while she was rotting in the bottom of a ditch. Or bleeding out in some secreted alley. Or being tortured by Hawk Moth. Or dead.

Adrien shook his head. He wasn't supposed to be thinking like this. He'd promised Plagg he would take care of himself. If Adrien began worrying about her, that worry was going to grow, and then it would take over, and then he would be running around Paris all over again when he really wasn't ready to. For now... for now, he needed to shove every thought about Marinette into the closet of his mind, because now was not the time to clean up that mess.

Adrien lathered his hands with conditioner and moved them up to his hair. He massaged his scalp vigorously, and shuddered as he felt watery mud run down his arms. It ended up taking him twenty whole painstaking minutes of stubborn scrubbing to wash every last grain of dirt from his locks. When he finished, Adrien clenched and unclenched his sore hands to try to get the blood flowing through his fingers again. When all the soap had finally rinsed from his hair, he decided it was time to shut off the water.

Once his body was completely dried off, Adrien wrapped a towel around his hair and tugged on some underwear. He pulled on flannel pants, a gray hoodie, and slipped his feet into his fuzzy Ladybug™ slippers, happily noting how much more smoothly his joints bent and his muscles flexed. Adrien took the towel out of his hair and threw it in the hamper, then reached underneath the sink to pull out the box of varying sized band-aids and a bottle of disinfectant. One hand held his wet hair away from the cut while the other hand quickly spritzed the gash. He bit down on his tongue to repress a yelp and turned the bottle around to look at the next step in the directions. **_Wait 6-7 minutes for the spray to dry before concealing the wound with a band-aid._**

He sighed. All Adrien wanted to do was crawl into his clean, warm bed so his body could finish resting and he could go back outside to search as quickly as possible. But it would only be six minutes, he reasoned, so Adrien sat down on the toilet seat to wait it out. Just to be safe, he sprayed some disinfectant on a few of the larger cuts and burns, then placed the bottle on the counter. Adrien's eyes fell on the mirror again, and he was surprised to see how much better he looked. He still looked tired, but he seemed much more relaxed. His eyes trailed up to the gash on his forehead, and Adrien suddenly wondered if he would be able to hide it. The rest of his injuries were able to be obscured by clothing, but his head was out in the open. His hair wouldn't be able to hide it. Maybe he could wear a hat, but he couldn't wear that during a photo shoot... or while fighting crime.

Maybe there was a way to explain the injury to his friends. And Nathalie. And his father. Would they believe him if he said he fell down the stairs? Probably not. Maybe he could say he scraped himself with a tree branch while walking through the park, or something. But what if it left a scar? Wouldn't someone eventually notice that Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir, two of the most famous teen boys in Paris, had the same large scar on their forehead? What then? What if that was all it took for everyone to figure it out?

Why was he being so _paranoid?_

Adrien fought not to slap himself on the head. There was _so much more_ he was supposed to be worrying about than his own identity. If there was any identity he should be worrying about, it was his partner's, and how it had just been released to the public in probably the worst way possible. When the time came to worry about his head scarring, he could revisit the wearing-a-hat-until-the-day-he-died thought.

Besides, would it really be the end of the world if everyone knew he was Chat Noir? They already knew who Ladybug was, whether that was intentional or not. Maybe if he revealed himself, if he went through this with her, she wouldn't be as afraid. Stealing half of her spotlight to be his own might make everything a fraction of a bit more bearable. Even if this ended up dragging him through hell and back, if it allowed him to give her that one fraction, he would do it.

But he also knew that, if he did that, she would never forgive him.

Adrien leaned back. Ladybug wouldn't care whether he was helping her or not. If there was even the slightest chance that he was going to be hurt (which, realistically, was pretty much guaranteed), she wouldn't allow it. He'd gone behind her back and done reckless things before—several, several times—but this... this wasn't one of those times. This was too serious. This was too much.

He would reveal himself one day. He promised himself that. But Marinette _had_ to be okay with it. He needed to give her control over this, since she hadn't had any control over everything else.

When the six minutes was up, Adrien poured a bunch of different sized band-aids onto the counter, setting the largest one to the side for his head. One by one, he meticulously plastered them over his scrapes and burns until the worst of them were covered. Adrien shoved the excess bandages back into their box and tossed the wrappers from the used ones into the trash. He looked down at the final band-aid, ready to peel off the wrapper and place it on his forehead, when his phone suddenly buzzed.

Adrien's eyes darted over to his phone, which sat on the other side of the counter. He hadn't looked at his notifications since yesterday morning, and Adrien would be lying if he said he wasn't sort of terrified to look at it now. But, he knew he was going to have to face it at some point, and it was better to face it now than to let the notifications accumulate to an insufferable amount. Biting his lip, Adrien reached across the counter, and grabbed his phone.

To get it over with, the first thing he did was click on the dreaded overflowing messages app and cautiously scroll through his classmates' texts. Chloé alone had sent him over two hundred, which honestly was not very surprising. His group chats had _exploded,_ but Adrien couldn't bring himself to click on them and read the damage. Nathalie had sent him eighteen texts, and for a fleeting second Adrien realized he had been MIA since yesterday afternoon, and the poor assistant was probably having a full-blown heart attack by now. He made a mental note to take care of that soon, before she panicked enough to call the police. Or his father.

He scrolled up to Alya's name, expecting a minimum of five million texts. Instead, he was startled to see that she had sent him no new messages whatsoever. Confused, he scrolled down to Nino's name, not knowing what to expect, and saw that his best friend had sent him a grand total of one new message the night before:

 _ **we need to talk**_

In addition to the text, Nino had tried to call him five times. Three times yesterday, twice today. He didn't leave any voicemails. Alya had called once, but didn't leave a voicemail either. Chloé left thirty-four.

He closed the phone app and transitioned to the Ladyblog. The blog appeared to be exploding as well, and Adrien swallowed thickly as he passed the infinite number of distressed posts crowding the chat room. He moved to the tags for Alya's personal posts, and he was surprised to see two new ones—one posted very early that morning, and the other posted a little over and hour ago.

After reading the first post, his heart clenched in his chest.

After reading the second one, he stood up on his feet.

Adrien reread it. Then read it again. And again. He blinked at his screen, stunned, waiting for the words to sink in. When they did, he had to sit back down on the toilet seat to prevent himself from collapsing.

Alya wanted to meet with Chat. With _him._ About _Ladybug._

He looked at the time. He saw that he still had a little over an hour before she wanted to meet him at the school. That was good; it gave him time to smash this feeling growing in his chest that felt terribly similar to hope.

Adrien stood up and walked to the door, as if he were in a trance. He didn't look up from his screen as he fumbled to open the door knob, nor when the door finally opened. He didn't look up when he stepped out of the bathroom, nor when the door shut quietly behind him.

He should've looked up.

"Plagg," he breathed. "Plagg, Alya, she wants to—"

"Adrien."

He didn't hear the caution in Plagg's voice.

"She wants to meet with Chat Noir. She _knows_ something."

"Adrien."

He didn't hear the gravity.

"We still have an hour, so I'm goi—"

 _ **"Adrien."**_

 **...**

He looked up.

 **...**

Gabriel Agreste stared back at him, with Plagg clutched in his fist.

 **...**

 **...**

"F..." Adrien's mouth was dry. His lips were numb. His brain short-circuited. "F-F—Father..."

Gabriel didn't respond. He seemed to be frozen in place, staring at his son with wide, disbelieving eyes. He didn't seem to register Plagg's relentless wriggling in the grip of his fist. For the first time in his life, Gabriel Agreste appeared to be completely speechless.

And Adrien was _terrified._

He was trembling. "Wh-what are you even _doing_ here?" he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. He sounded off-pitch—too shrill, too scared. _'Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm...'_

Gabriel seemed to regain some of his function. His posture straightened and he cleared his throat. The disbelieving look in his eyes turned to one of ice.

"Nathalie called me in panic and said you had been missing since yesterday afternoon." His eyes slit. "But it... appears you haven't been _missing_ at all."

He gulped.

(What were the odds his father would've come to check on him in person? Next to zero. Next to _zero.)_

 _(Just. his. luck.)_

"Urgh, let me _go_ old man!" Plagg snapped. Gabriel didn't even look at him.

Adrien licked his lips. "I—uh—I can ex-explain—"

"No need." His voice soft, but it was anything but understanding. Adrien would go as far as to call it threatening. Gabriel raised his free hand and motioned it towards him. "Come closer."

Adrien couldn't move.

 _"Adrien!"_

Adrien winced, and he painfully forced himself to take a step forward. He kept his head ducked, trying to think of something, anything, that could get him out of this. However, his thoughts were fruitless.

Without warning, Gabriel grabbed his son underneath his chin and lifted his head. The grip wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle, either. His hand was freezing, and Adrien shuddered from the touch. The position of his head forced him to stare his father in the eye. His father seemed to be searching his eyes for something, and the longer he stared the more nervous Adrien became. Eventually, Gabriel's eyes clouded with something that Adrien couldn't define.

"...After all this time..." he whispered.

Adrien had enough. He jerked himself out of his father's grip and took a step backwards. He tried to stand tall, but all he could seem to do was fold in on himself.

Undeterred, Gabriel stepped forwards. He held out his empty hand. His next words froze the blood in Adrien's veins. "Give me the ring, Adrien."

He clenched his fist protectively around the ring. "No," he said, without missing a beat.

Gabriel's hand tightened around Plagg. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your kwami, would you?"

Adrien inhaled sharply. "How did you—"

However, Plagg didn't seem alarmed in the slightest. "You bluffing idiot. You think you can hurt me, human? I am an immortal—"

"I've done it before," he said coolly. Cryptically. Threateningly.

Adrien and Plagg's eyes widened.

Gabriel took this as a chance to speak. "Adrien, it was foolish of you to bond yourself to such dangerous magic. You're too young to possess this kind of responsibility wisely—"

"Do you even _know_ what responsibility is?" Adrien asked angrily. His voice was shaking, but it was like a dam had crumbled within him. Suddenly, everything was spilling out at once, and he didn't want to stop it. "Ever since Mom disappeared, you've locked yourself in your office, and the rare times you do decide to actually talk to my face, it's to yell at me! Even now! You're the most incompetent parent—"

"This is the immaturity I'm talking about," Gabriel snipped. "You don't think before you speak. You don't think before you _do._ How long did it take you to accept the ring? One second? Two?"

"A heartbeat," Adrien immediately said. "And if I did it over again, I would do it the same exact way."

"Stupid boy," he hissed. He stepped forward. "How much do you even know about the ring? How much have they even told you?"

Adrien glared. "I know enough. I know how to do my job. The job I was _chosen_ to—"

"Did they tell you it could bring back your mother?"

Adrien froze.

Gabriel stepped closer. His eyes were ignited with something akin to excitement. "The cat and ladybug miraculous are the two most powerful miraculouses in the world. When wielded together, their master possesses absolute power. We can bring her back with that power. All you have to do is let me."

"Wha—no!" He shook his head. "It's too dangerous! It's _stupid!_ How can you even suggest—"

"I'm so close, Adrien." His eyes were no longer icy. They were wide, desperate for him to understand. "I found Marinette. I found _you._ All we need is to bring the miraculouses together—"

The final puzzle piece clicked into place in Adrien's head.

"...You," he whispered.

Gabriel was silent.

Adrien _shattered._

"You!" He shoved his father in the chest, causing him to stumble back a little. "It's you! _He's_ you! _You_ did this! You you _you you **YOU!"**_

Gabriel scowled. "Think of _us,_ Adrien. Think of your mother! Don't you want to be a family—"

"Of course I do!" Adrien felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. "I love her so much it _hurts._ Everyday I pray for some miracle to bring her home—"

 _"This_ is your miracle!" he insisted. "It's _possible,_ Adrien, we can _do this_ — _"_

"And do you even realize what you've done to get here?" Tears leaked from his eyes. "Do you even know how many people you've hurt? How many people feel guilty for doing something they had no control over? Do you—do you even _care_ — _"_

"Stop being so selfish," Gabriel growled.

Adrien was teetering dangerously close to hysteria. _"I'm_ being selfish?! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Adrien—"

 ** _"You hurt her!"_** he screamed. _"You hurt Mari because you wouldn't know a limit if it hit you in the face!"_

Gabriel's hand shot forward and locked around Adrien's arm, catching him off guard. His father slammed him against the bathroom door, causing Adrien's head to spin in protest. Dazedly, he could see the man's face was red with anger. "Shut up. _Shut up."_

Plagg used the distraction to free himself from Gabriel's fist. He darted in between the two of them and turned his face to Adrien's father with darkened eyes. His voice was as hard as stone. "What, too cowardly to face the truth? Too proud to hear it from your own son? Grow up, Gabriel. Give me the brooch."

His father's hand tightened around his arm. Ignoring Plagg, he enunciated, "Give. Me. The. Ring."

Adrien's lip quivered. He was barely holding back from becoming a sobbing mess. All he could do was shake his head no.

Gabriel quickly reached for his son's hand, and Adrien barely had any time or room to block the ring from his father's access. Before Gabriel had the chance to try to do anything more drastic, Plagg bit him harshly on the nose with a loud hiss. The man cursed and let go of his son at the surprise pain, and Adrien used this small opening to duck underneath his father's arms and dart towards the window. As he ran, he cried, "Plagg! _Plagg!"_

Plagg flew away from his father as fast as he could. Adrien grabbed the kwami just as they both reached the window, seconds before his father had the chance to. "Claws out!"

Chat Noir didn't know how close behind Gabriel was. He didn't look back to see. The second his transformation ended, he grabbed his staff and launched himself out the window.

He didn't stop running.

He never looked back.

* * *

 **...**

 **Plagg is the best character in the whole show and we all know it there is no point in denying**

 **Disclaimer: I'm completely neutral on the whole Is-Gabriel-Hawk-Moth-Or-Not situation please do not shit on me for using it as a plot device thanks**

 **Here Lies whatever little innocence Adrien had left. rip in fucking pieces.**

 ****Cross-posted on Ao3**

 ****Tumblr: chatnono**


	6. Snap

**Warning: blood/injury, depression/suicidal thoughts**

 **I do not own ML**

 _ **Chapter 6: Snap**_

* * *

Marinette didn't believe in luck. Before she met Tikki, she was shy and weird and clumsy and never seemed to get a break from embarrassing herself. People often told her that she was just going through a phase of bad luck, and that it would go away eventually. But, to Marinette, blaming her problems on poor luck seemed a lot less realistic, and a lot more complicated, than just _admitting_ she was shy and weird and clumsy. It was harder on herself, sure, but relying on the belief that her life was controlled by unseen mystical forces was bound to get her in trouble one way or another.

And then she became Ladybug. The literal embodiment of good luck. Marinette was still shy and weird and clumsy, but Ladybug was loud and fierce and unflinching. She was saving lives and kicking evil's ass and just being plain _awesome._ She was admired, and worshipped, and noticed. She was an icon. An idol. A _hero._

So, how could she not believe it? Every akuma she and Chat encountered, they beat. Nobody, that she knew of, had found out her identity (despite so, so many unintentional hints and clues). She found amazing friends in Alya, and Nino, and Adrien; in Tikki, and Chat. Her class elected her president, and Chloé finally had someone challenging her unjust authority. She was being recognized for her art and fashion, winning contests and receiving amazing opportunities. She learned to believe in herself. She learned to believe in others. And, after that, being Marinette hurt a little less. (Except when she walked into walls.) (And fell off chairs in front of her crush.) (But that wasn't the point.)

For the first time in her life, she knew what it was like to stand tall. Not to stumble, fall, and get up halfway. Not to hover by the ground, praying that she was low enough so that the next time she was inevitably knocked down, it wouldn't hurt as much. She could stand with her back straight, two feet planted on the ground, and her chin raised, knowing she was constantly, endlessly loved and needed. And—who _wouldn't_ feel lucky after that?

She let herself believe. Just for a moment. Just for a _blink._

And now, she had nothing.

The alley was dark. Marinette was huddled behind a cluster of trash cans, wrapped in a blanket she'd snatched from her closet. She couldn't remember where she was, or how she got here. She'd passed out as soon as she arrived, and she woke up several hours later, her body freezing and on fire at the same time. That's when Marinette took out her blanket, to see if maybe the soft, warm piece of her home could bring her some sense of comfort. Now, she stared up at the gray sky, and for a second she wondered why there still wasn't any rain. What was the earth waiting for? If it started to pour, at least Marinette had the chance to feel something other than this creeping, lethal kind of agony that was consuming her alive. At least she could remember what it was like to feel anything at all.

In hindsight, Marinette realized she didn't have much of a plan when she let Tikki go. Of course, she had already planned where the miraculous was going to go, but what about the plan for herself? When she crept back into her house, besides taking the box, she only grabbed a few warm things and a little water and food. That wasn't a very extensive preparation for... well, _any_ plan she might've had.

What was she going to _do?_

Well, at the moment, Marinette couldn't do anything. Every last drop of her energy had been milked beyond dry, and even keeping her eyes open required an obscene amount of effort. She grasped onto her consciousness by its failing threads, because she wasn't positive enough that, if she gave in to this overwhelming desire to sleep, she would be able to wake up again. She was slipping away, so dangerously fast, and at this rate... she knew.

Marinette swallowed. Her eyes were glassy, but she didn't hold the strength to cry. Her body tremored involuntarily, due to fever and over exhaustion. The blood was finally beginning to dry, but it crusted and pinched her skin uncomfortably. There was so much wrong, there was no way to fix it. The short window of time she'd had had closed. She knew there was only one way she was going to land: in a surging, inexorable crash.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was her plan. Maybe, subconsciously, she had decided to submit to her wounds and hole herself away, knowing that, even if her body _was_ salvageable, the wreckage of her life was not. Maybe she thought it was better to escape while she could, instead of being forced to witness the flames of disaster devour everyone and everything she loved. Even if she wouldn't live to experience it, in her mind, she could picture how it would be: screaming, boiling hatred running from the mouths of the people she trusted, of the people who trusted her, and their disappointment chasing her, throttling her until she was choking for air, and feeling her heart break piece by bleeding piece until there was nothing left to spare.

All of it was so vivid, so clear and evocative, that it must've been true. It couldn't have all been in her head, no matter how badly she wished it to be. She was going to lose them all, if she hadn't lost every one of them already.

She felt tears fill her eyes.

Ever since Marinette was first given the miraculous, she'd just hoped that she would never let anyone down. That's all she'd ever wanted. She wanted them to be safe, to have faith in her, to trust her. She didn't want them to be disappointed that Ladybug wasn't invincible, or disappointed that the person behind the mask was just some faceless schoolgirl. She didn't want them to be disappointed that, even when Ladybug tried her best, she could screw up so, so badly. She couldn't have beared it if she lost their trust, if their faith was shaken.

So of course that was _exactly_ what happened. Of course she lost everything that was important to her. Of course her life got completely destroyed in one explosive moment, in front of the whole country. Of course, of course, of _course._

 _(Just. her. luck.)_

She thought of her parents. She thought of the bakery, of her father's laugh, of her mother's smile. She thought of their hugs and their lectures and their relentless encouragement for everything she did, everything she believed in. She thought of their embarrassing antics and their delicious baking. She thought of their kindness and their wisdom and their unconditional love for their absolute mess of a daughter.

She thought of Alya. She thought of her headstrongness, of how she was willing to fight so hard for what she believed in, whether it was yelling at Chloé, or running after Ladybug in battle, or shoving her towards Adrien. She thought of her incessant joking and teasing, of her unquestionable support and loyalty. She thought of Nino, of how he was just as good a friend to Adrien as Alya was to her, and of how he could somehow subdue her best friend without burning out her fire.

She thought of Adrien, of his kindness, of how he was still such a genuinely loving person despite the terrible influences and expectations that had been thrust upon him. She thought of his shy smiles and his ringing laughs and his posters on her walls. She thought of his selflessness, his bravery, and his unique, seamless way of making everyone feel so wholly _important,_ even if they were the farthest from it.

She went through them all. Friends, classmates, relatives, neighbors. One by one, she watched as they transitioned from constants to memories. She recalled her final interactions with them all _(laughing with Mylène and Ivan, high-fiving Alix for making an awesome roast, complimenting Nathanaël for his beautiful drawing, rolling her eyes at Chloé, kissing her parents on their cheeks, turning away from Alya and Nino's identical smiles, holding Adrien's hand for that one, fleeting, magical moment before they were ripped apart in the chaos—)_ and she wondered what it would've been like if they knew that was the last time they were going to see her. Then she thought of Tikki's pleas for Marinette to get help, to keep fighting, to _keep_ her there, and she decided that it might've been better this way. Even if she hadn't gotten to say goodbye, there were still some beautiful, bittersweet memories left for her to cherish just as much.

She thought of the little things. She thought of phone calls with Alya, and listening to Nino's mixtapes, and even just that feeling she got whenever she heard Adrien's laugh. She thought of baking (or attempting to), and crushing opponents in video games, and designing into the early hours of the morning, and dancing (really badly) to music, when no one was around but Tikki. She thought of swinging over rooftops and waving to people on the streets below, and her partner, with his stupid puns and his stupider smile and his stupidest 'crush' on her and his complete overall _stupidity,_ and how, despite it all, she loved him with a vigor that she couldn't even understand.

She thought of her life. Of her past, of her present, of her future—of everything she'd done, and everything she had yet to do—and she _mourned_ it, because there was _so much_ she was going to miss, too much that was being _taken away._

Not that she wasn't even used to losing things. She'd dealt with an innumerable, choking amount of sacrifices that stole from every part of her. Not just from her life—from her relationships, from her grades, from her free time—but also from _herself_ —from her safety, from her soul, from her mind... They caused so much damage, and they never stopped taking, not for a second. All of these secrets and lies and masks, the unbearable task of trying to fit into a million molds at once while simultaneously trying to stay true to herself—it ripped away pieces from her that she would never get back, and left scars in their wake that were only visible to her broken eyes.

No matter how much she did to try to fix it, no matter how many people she saved or how many akumas were defeated, the sacrifices took and took and took, and the weight of the danger and responsibility and expectations and paranoia grew and grew and _grew_ until—

Until she was drowning in it.

And now, as she was completely and officially submerged, she just wanted to know—what did she ever do to _deserve_ this?

Marinette was kind. She was a good listener. She was funny, whether she meant to be or not. She was fairly optimistic, or so she tried to be. She was honest—at least, as honest as she could be without giving her secrets away. But, no matter what, Marinette stood up for the good in this world as best as she knew how, whether that was by telling off bullies and liars, or by being a supportive and encouraging friend, or by putting on a brave face and defeating akumas—innocent people intoxicated by pure evil, who were unjustly puppeted by a heartless man to help fulfill his hidden agenda.

By no means was Marinette perfect. She was so, so, inexplicably far from that. But she really did... she really did try her best, both in and out of the mask, to help as many people as she could. Of course, with the mask on, she could make a far greater impact, and she was grateful that Ladybug's hard work was recognized. She was grateful for the cheers, and the hugs, and the smiles. She was grateful for even having the opportunity at all—somehow, out of all the people in Paris, _she_ was endowed with these powers, endowed with the responsibility to protect the city. It was a privilege that humbled her, rather than boosting her ego (unlike a certain cat she knew).

But Ladybug never asked to be held on a pedestal. She never asked to be looked up to. Heroism is just an occupation. She was just doing her _job._

And look how she was repaid.

The sky was getting dimmer. It wasn't quite sunset, but that was only a matter of time. A crack of thunder resonated throughout the city, and Marinette sighed quietly, feeling the breath rattle in and out of her chest. When she felt her eyelids begin to droop shut, she forced them wide open again, yet the miniscule action continued to grow more and more difficult by the second.

Was this really it? Was this really how she was going to die? On the floor of a dirty alley, bleeding, all by herself? Nobody knew where she was—how long would it take for them to find her body? Maybe a day. Maybe as long as it took for someone to use these trash cans. Or maybe until the stench grew so bad—

Marinette was surged by the overwhelming compulsion to vomit.

She rarely ever used to think about death. It was natural, but it was morbid, and the idea that one day she, and everyone around her, would inevitably cease to exist... it was frightening, to say the least. She believed there was no use in worrying about something that was bound to happen sooner or later—preferably later—so she just never focused on it. When she became Ladybug, and she and Death began having tea on a weekly basis, she realized that her days could be more numbered than she thought they were. Even still, she chose not to worry about it too much; there were far more pressing 'what if's whirling through her mind for her to worry about her life ending. She would cross that bridge when she got to it.

Now, the infamous bridge itself stood before her, waiting for her to pass. But all she saw on the other side were dark, encroaching shadows, waiting to seize her soul and swallow her alive.

She didn't want to die. Not now, not yet. She didn't want her life to flash before her eyes and for her to see this calamity of an ending. She didn't want this to be her legacy, she didn't want to be remembered as the girl who was chosen to be a hero and ended up being the farthest from one. She wanted to make it _right._ But she couldn't erase everyone's memories, or undo the accident. There was no conceivable way to fix this without going back in time and avoiding Plan C in the first place.

There was nothing she could do, and she _hated it._

Marinette's eyelids were getting heavier. Her breathing was slowing down, and an eerily comforting warmth had washed over her body. She knew it was the familiar blanket of sleep gently luring her into slumber, but it might as well have been the embrace of death, waiting for the perfect moment to crush her. She fought to keep her eyes open, but her blinks were dragging on longer and longer.

(She wished she had more time.)

She wanted to scream. She wanted to curse and yell and weep. She wanted claw at her face and rip out her hair and bash her head against the brick wall over and over again. She wanted to jump and leap and soar and run—run away from this body, from this life, from this cursed existence, and just start all over again. Start bright. Start fresh. Remember what it was like to have hope again.

(She wished she could've said goodbye.)

She wanted a world of peace. A world built on love and kindness and respect. A world with no Hawk Moth, no akumas, no danger. No sacrifice, no loss, no dissatisfaction or disapproval. No hatred, no heartbreak, no expectations. No sea of terrible thoughts rising up past her waist, taunting her, waiting for her to drown in them. Just her, her yo-yo, and the skyline of the city.

Perhaps it could be real, somewhere in a dream.

(She wished she could've apologized.)

She wanted to be in her home. She wanted to be in her room, in her bed. She wanted to be with her blankets and her family and her closest friends. She wanted to be held, wanted someone whose chest she could bury her face in, someone who could tell her that everything was going to be okay, even though they were both agonizingly aware that it wouldn't be. And she didn't care whether it was cheesy or boring or cliché, because _damn it_ —she was scared and hurt and all she wanted, for the last moment of her life, was to be _loved._

 _(She didn't want to be alone.)_

She looked up at the sky one last time. There was a flash of lightning above her head, and in her exhausted stupor, her mind was overwhelmed by the distant memory of an afternoon in the rain—when Adrien apologized for something he didn't even do and gave her his umbrella as a peace offering. She remembered feeling her anger melt away into something far, far more pleasing, and she remembered how, when she looked into his eyes for the first time— _really_ looked into his eyes, really saw Adrien for the amazing, genuine, beautiful person he was—she knew she was a goner.

(Suddenly... she didn't feel so lonely.)

With the vision of loving, green eyes on her mind, she finally closed her own.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

She didn't see the akuma flutter into the alley.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

With a clap of thunder, it began to pour.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 ** _"Sometimes I wish I'd stayed inside_**

 ** _My mother_**

 ** _Never to come out..."_**

 **~"Smother" by Daughter**

 **...**

 ****cross-posted on AO3**

 ****tumblr: chatnono**


	7. Whack

**Notes: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 7: Whack**_

* * *

Chat leaned over and vomited in the trash can.

It hurt. His throat burned painfully, as if he were retching lava instead of puke. The exerting action caused his knees to weaken, and he had to grip the sides of the bin to keep himself upright. When he finally stopped coughing, he collapsed against the wall of the bakery, his breathing fast and heavy. He tiredly wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, and he rested his aching head back against the building, trying and failing to ignore the tears leaking down his face.

There was so much that he hadn't gotten to tell him to his face. So much that he hadn't gotten out, that he might now never get to say. He'd said a lot, but the biting words he'd managed to release, while stuck in his shocked and terrified horror nonetheless, weren't even a _fraction_ of the thoughts that continued to be held captive in his mind. Now, the words scraped and clawed at the bars of their prison, begging to be set free, and Chat was jaggedly divided between letting them go or holding them back.

Not that his actions necessarily mattered at this point. Perhaps if Hawk Moth's identity were to get released, it could cause a whole other slew of issues (nevertheless at a time where it was unideal for issues to be amassing), but that wasn't the problem. He feared, logically so, that no matter what he did, no matter how much he cursed or cried or thrashed or screamed, it would never be enough. Not after this, not after everything his— _that man_ had done. Once the cage emptied, it would just fill right up again, and he didn't know how long it would take for the stream to stop, if it ever stopped at all. In the end, he figured he should keep it locked, at least for now, just so he could at least _try_ to salvage what little of his sanity was still intact.

Chat tiredly took in his surroundings. He appeared to be on some shopping corner that felt oddly familiar, which was fairly close to the Eiffel Tower. When he looked across the street, he was startled to see that he was facing Collège Françoise Dupont. The sight of the school sparked his memory through his muddled thoughts, and suddenly he remembered Alya's request to meet with him. As much as he really didn't want to interact with anybody right now, hearing some good news might do some good for his mental health.

Without getting up, he pulled his staff out of his belt and opened it to check the time. When he saw there was still fifteen minutes until 15h00, he contemplated whether he should stay here or wait near the bushes, so he could make sure he didn't accidentally miss her. On the other hand, if he stayed here, he could detransform and talk to Plagg, and maybe if he was lucky enough the kwami would have some helpful advice to spare again. However, before he had the chance to think anymore into it, a startled gasp above his head stole his attention.

When he looked up, he found himself staring back at the awed face of Sabine Cheng.

The woman looked very similar to how he remembered her—gray, kind eyes, smooth short hair, and she was still wearing one of her traditional Cheongsams. Only, this time, her eyes were red and bloodshot, her hair was slightly disheveled, and she was wearing a shawl over her shoulders to cover her arms. She looked more drained, more frail than the strong, lively woman he remembered from their limited interactions, and he had to swallow the lump rising in his throat.

For a moment, all he could seem to do was gape at her. She stared at him speechlessly, as if trying to process what on earth a dirty superhero was doing sitting in her alley. He figured he should try to say something, but his brain couldn't formulate an appropriate greeting. His eyes fell on the small trash bag in her hand, and he realized that this must've been the alley behind the bakery. It was only then that he remembered how the Dupain-Cheng Bakery was... directly across from the school. He could hear the sound of an imaginary Plagg snickering at his forgetfulness in the back of his head.

Once she finally regained her voice, Sabine became the first one to speak. Her voice was choked. "Ch-Chat Noir."

Chat forced himself to sit up, ignoring how the sudden rush of blood through his head made him dizzy. The sound of her voice snapped him into action. "O-oh—um—Mrs. Cheng, I'm—"

"What are you doing all alone out here?" she asked softly, stepping forward. Her voice was dripping with worry, and it took Chat half a second to realize that he was still crying. He quickly wiped both his eyes, but the damage was already done. She dropped the bag off to the side before lowering herself down to his level and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He didn't have the strength or heart to push her away. All he could do was refrain from leaning into her touch. "I'm sorry for intruding," he apologized, "I didn't know this was your—"

"It's not a problem," she claimed. Her worry didn't waver. "Are... are you okay, honey?"

Chat swallowed thickly. His throat was closing up and he didn't trust his voice to remain steady, so all he could do was lie and nod his head.

Mrs. Cheng clearly wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I—it's been a long day," he explained, and truer words had never been spoken. He struggled to speak statically. "I've been... I haven't gotten much of break."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said sincerely. She rubbed her hand consolingly down his shoulder, unintentionally digging up memories of his mother caressing him in the same manner. The recollection hit him like a slap in the face, and he struggled to prevent himself from crying again.

Chat reluctantly pulled himself from her touch. He hauled himself to his feet and dared to meet her eyes. "Thank you for everything, but I really need to—"

"No, no, stay," she protested. She stood up as well. "I mean, I know you don't know me very well, but..." She smiled tiredly, but it was still heartfelt. "I swear I don't bite."

He gripped his staff. "I—I don't think—"

"You need to sit down in a real chair," she advised. "Also, you should let me look at that cut." She stared pointedly at his forehead, and it was only then that Chat remembered how he'd neglected to cover the gash with the last bandage.

Still, he declined. "I have somewhere I need to be..."

She gently grabbed his hand. "Please. I insist."

Chat fought to keep his position, but one look into her pleading eyes and he felt himself cave. "...If you insist..."

Sabine didn't waste a second leading him to the bakery door. As they passed the front, he noticed police blockers and a police car sitting outside the front, preventing any nosy spectators from crowding their property. He briefly caught sight of the 'closed' sign on the door before she opened it and ushered him inside.

He sheepishly let her direct him up the stairs and into the quiet apartment. She briefly mentioned something about her husband being up all night, talking to the police and watching the news, and how they should keep their voices down because she had just now convinced him to take a nap in their bedroom. Not like Chat planned on talking his mouth off in the first place, but he nodded, if only to satiate her.

In just a few minutes, Chat found himself sitting at her kitchen table with a mug of steaming tea in his hands. Sabine walked back into the room with a small first aid kit, which she placed on the table before pulling out a disinfectant wipe. Chat sighed in disinclination before he once again endured the irritating sting of his wound getting cleansed. Once she was done, Sabine placed the band-aid on his head, finally concealing the ghastly cut.

After putting the kit back in its place, Sabine settled herself in the seat across from him, with her own mug in her hold. She placed it on the table and folded her hands. "Does that feel better?" she asked.

He lowered his mug from his face and nodded. "Much, thank you."

"You're welcome," she hummed, taking her first sip of her tea.

Chat bit his lip and looked down at his drink. He needed to say something to her. He couldn't just sit with her, sharing a cup of tea in the comfort of her home when her daughter—he needed to address—

"I'm so sorry," he blurted. After a beat, he realized what he'd done, and he shrunk in his seat. "I mean, I..." He reluctantly met her eyes. "I'm sorry, about Marinette."

Sabine's drinking paused abruptly.

Chat really should've stopped talking, but everything was gushing out again. His words jumbled and his speech was far too rushed. His voice trembled. "I'm sorry, I-I tried to stop her, but I couldn't—she was too—I tried to find her but I—I swear I didn't—I d-didn't know she—I'm so _sorry—"_

"Whoa! Shh, shh," she soothed. Her eyes were wide in shock, and Chat wanted melt into his chair. The tears unwillingly welling in his eyes did nothing to make him feel any better. Sabine reached across the table and gripped his hand again. "I don't blame you for anything that happened. None of it is your fault."

"I could have stopped her," he mumbled. "I could have done more—"

"You're doing everything you can," she insisted. "And you've _already_ done more than enough." She smiled thankfully. "They were broadcasting your search on the news all night long. Everyone saw you looking for her. It inspired many others to go out as well."

He stayed silent.

Sabine sat back. She stared down at the liquid in her mug pensively, her fingers quietly tapping against the porcelain. "This past day has been a bit... of a shock, for Tom and I," she informed him, her voice softer. The grip on her mug tightened. "Marinette... she had been acting stranger these past few months, but I never thought... I never expected..." Sabine met his eyes morosely. "Does it make me a bad parent? That I didn't notice that my own daughter—" Her voice cut off.

"No, it doesn't," he said firmly. "Nobody is supposed to know who we are. It's dangerous." He shook his head. "I didn't even know her identity until... well, yesterday."

She looked surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "I mean, I've tried to get her to let us reveal ourselves to each other before, but she always insisted we would be putting ourselves in jeopardy." His shoulders slumped. "I've wanted to know who Ladybug is for the longest time, but not..." Chat's throat closed. "Not like this."

Sabine's expression overflowed with sympathy. "Of course you didn't. You didn't wish this upon her."

"And I know that," he said. "But I just can't shake the feeling that I did something wrong. That something _is_ my fault. And if I can't—" He clenched his hands into fists. He couldn't breathe. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Shouldn't that mean that there really _is_ something to blame me for?"

Sabine was silent for a moment, staring at the table. Her mug was set aside. She seemed to be contemplating her next words meticulously. Finally, she looked up again.

"Maybe you did do something wrong. Maybe not every move was exactly right, and maybe the mistakes weighed into the results." Then the corners of her mouth raised into something similar to a smile. "But that's exactly what they are. Mistakes. It's the people who take intentional actions against others that are the ones to blame." The smile transformed into something much darker. "And we both know who _that_ is."

 _'My father.'_

Chat stared at her for a moment. The words in his head were clawing at their cage harder and faster than ever, and he suddenly felt the urge to puke again.

Should he... should he tell her? Should he tell her Hawk Moth's identity?

He contemplated it. He owed his father nothing at this point, _especially_ not his discretion, but he owed Marinette's parents everything. Their daughter was missing, and whether it was true or not, he considered himself partially responsible. Perhaps, if they knew, it might bring them a sense of temporary closure. Just enough to fill the daughter-shaped hole in their lives until their actual daughter was there to fill it.

But when he looked at her again, and he saw the tired, distressed mother wrapping her shawl around herself more tightly, he saw a breaking woman trying to keep herself together. And he didn't know... he didn't know how she would take it. He didn't know if it would make her stronger or tear her apart.

For now, he would keep this to himself.

He forced himself to smile. "I... thank you," was all he could think of to say.

She smiled again. "I'm glad I could help," she said. Her eyes softened with an emotion that Chat could only think to describe as motherly. "And please know, our door is always open to you."

Chat could feel his heart warming in his chest. "That's... that's very kind of you."

"A friend of Marinette's is a friend of ours," she insisted. Her smile turned melancholy. "And you must be very close to her."

His mouth was dry. "More than you know."

A clap of thunder erupted outside the window. Chat was suddenly struck with the realization of how much time had passed. He tugged out his staff and was horrified to see that he was already ten minutes late for his confrontation with Alya. With the recollection of how angry his red-haired friend could get, he placed his half finished drink on the table and stood up.

Finally, he looked at Sabine, suddenly feeling upset to leave her here all by herself. "I... I have to go."

Sabine's shoulders went rigid. She seemed hesitant to let him go. But instead of protesting, she gave him a tight nod. "...Okay."

Chat gave her a thankful smile. He began to turn towards the door, when she said one last thing. "Chat Noir?"

He glanced back.

Fearful tears glistened in her eyes. _"Please_ be careful."

Chat grasped his staff. He gulped. "I'll try," he whispered.

He traipsed towards the door and wrapped his hand around the knob. Before pushing it open, he looked back one last time.

"I'll bring her back," he promised.

Before she could reply, he darted down the stairs.

* * *

Conveniently enough, it didn't take Chat very long to spot Alya—she was sitting against the wall of the staircase, next to the bushes, her knees drawn to her chest and her head ducked to look at her phone screen. Even from his position on the bakery steps, he could spot a tenseness in her posture. Chat crept his way across the street and towards the school, trying to stay out of sight, even though there weren't that many people still hanging around on the school grounds. Still, he didn't want to get tangled up with other people and delay this meeting any further. He had a job to do.

Chat came to a stop in front of Alya, careful to keep his body shielded by the wall to omit from the school's view. His shadow fell over her huddled body, and the sudden change in light caused her to look up at whatever was blocking it. However, when her eyes met his, he had to suppress the explosion of concern that erupted in his chest. It had only been a day since he'd seen her last, but the bags under her tired hazel eyes, the frown tugging her lips to the ground, the way her usually exuberant aura was replaced by one of painful sadness—she looked as if she'd aged by years instead of hours.

For a moment, Alya just stared at him with an indecipherable expression. As the seconds ticked by, he began to grow more and more anxious, and ultimately he decided he should be the one to break the ice. He cleared his throat before dumbly asking, "You're, uh, Alya, right?"

At first, all Alya did was blink at him. Then she squinted her eyes, and he suddenly worried that he'd done something wrong. She rose to her feet, pocketed her phone, and crossed her arms. "You're late," she snipped.

He had to stifle a laugh, partially because he wasn't expecting that response, but also partially because of _course_ that's the first thing she would say to his face. He tried to formulate a reply. "Sorry, I was, um—" He wasn't sure if he should tell her the truth about why he was late, but he wasn't sure how passively she would react to him being with Marinette's mom. "I got... held up."

Her posture lost some of its tension. She shifted on her feet. "I was worried you weren't going to show up," she admitted quietly.

Oh. "I'm sorry for worrying you, then," he apologized, his voice a little softer.

Alya's expression warmed up a little bit. "It's okay," she said. "What matters is that you're here." Then the warmness melted from her face, replaced by stone-cold seriousness. "We need your help."

"'We?'"

"Oh, uh, Nino's a part of this. He's my boyfriend," she explained. "He went back to my apartment to take care of... things." He could see her hands begin to fidget out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered with mild concern what was making her so restless. "We thought it would be better to discuss this in private," she continued, her voice lower.

Chat stared at her, his stomach beginning to sink. He was getting the vibes that this 'news' Alya had to tell him was likely not of the positive nature, and bad news was definitely the last thing he needed to hear at the moment. But if she needed to tell him in private, it sure as hell was going to be important. Part of him just wanted her to lay it out to him now, rip off the band aid and let the sting burn his skin so he could move on to the planning stage as quickly as possible, but he knew he could stand to wait for it until they were in her home. _'Breathe. Breathe. Be patient.'_

Chat pulled out his staff, and he extended it a few feet. He hopped on top and turned back to Alya. His mouth twisted into something like a smile. "Do you want a ride?"

Alya's expression flattened. "No."

His ears flattened against his head. "Oh, c'mon."

"You don't even know where I live," she pointed out.

"That's why you're going to direct me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not riding your stupid magic pole all the way to my house."

Chat frowned. "It's not stupid," he mumbled.

Alya glared. "Let's just walk. Or is that form of transportation too _mundane_ for you, cat boy?"

"We'll get stuck in the rain if we walk," he argued. "This is much quicker—"

 _"No—"_

"It's not that bad," he swore. "And I promise I won't let you fall."

She squinted at him again. He stared back at her pointedly. After a few beats, she scowled and stepped forward. "What do I do?"

Chat lit up. He sweeped her up without warning, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and readjusted their weight on the staff. He gave her a small grin. "Just hang on."

Her eyes widened for a split second before they shot off.

* * *

"That wasn't that bad," Alya decided.

"Told you."

Alya paused in front of her apartment door. "I mean, at first I was pissed at you but then I got used to it." She pulled her keys out of her bag and wagged a finger in his face. "But just know, if you'd dropped me, I would have decapitated you."

He watched her unlock and open the door. "You're too kind."

She stepped inside the apartment, and Chat stepped in after her. Alya quickly closed the door, locked it, and stuffed her keys into her bag again. She looked up at him. "My family won't be home for another hour, but hopefully we'll have a plan by then."

"Plan..." he repeated.

Alya didn't clarify. She tore her eyes from his and motioned for him to follow her. They walked down the hall and stopped in front of what he recalled to be Alya's bedroom door. He could hear Nino's muffled voice coming from the other side. It sounded like he was talking to someone.

Alya looked inexplicably anxious. She glanced at him. "We found her during lunch. I, uh, kept her here during class, so she could have a peaceful rest. Nino's in there with her now."

"Wait, I'm confused," he interrupted. "Alya, who is—"

She groaned. "Shit, sorry, I'm stalling," she confessed. "This has... been a lot to take in." She sighed and placed her hand on the doorknob. "It would be easier to just show you."

Before Chat could say anything, she pushed the door open.

Nino was splayed out over Alya's bed, lying on his stomach and propped up by his elbows. There were boxes of various types of cookies scattered on the desk and around the bed's perimeter, each of them open but still mostly full. Nino was smiling down at Alya's pillow, where a small, pink creature with enlarged eyes sat. There was a large, black dot on their forehead, and under closer inspection Chat realized that it looked alarmingly similar to—

"A kwami," Chat breathed.

At the sound of his voice, Nino quickly looked up from the pillow, and the kwami shot up in surprise. "Oh. Hi," Nino squeaked.

Chat didn't reply. His eyes were glued to the kwami. The _ladybug_ kwami.

There were so many questions whirling through his head at once that he was positive he was going to black out. A part of him begged himself to, if only to shut his brain off before it crashed and burned.

Alya, sensing his sudden distress, cleared her throat and gestured to her desk. "Do you want to, uh, sit down, maybe?"

Without looking where he was going, Chat wordlessly lowered himself into Alya's desk chair, willing himself to remain steady. Alya sat down next to Nino on the bed, the two of them sharing a brief look before turning back to the hero. He kept staring at the kwami, speechless.

The kwami rose from the pillow and slowly approached him. She spoke kindly. "Chat Noir, my name is Tikki."

Chat blinked numbly. "I'm Chat."

"...Right," she said. She stared at him worriedly. "Are... are you alri—?"

"Why are you here?" he choked. His claws were digging into the palms of his hands, but they couldn't quite break through the material of his suit to scathe him. "W-where's Marinette?"

Tikki wilted, and Chat's heart plummeted at the expression on her face.

"Marinette placed her miraculous on my windowsill last night," Alya explained, her voice admirably stable. "She wanted—" Alya caught herself. "She... she wants _me_ to be the new Ladybug."

Chat looked back at Tikki. "Where is she now? Do you know?"

"I don't know," she confessed quietly. "But I can tell you what I do know, if you want."

"I—" He closed his eyes, but nodded. "Okay." He needed to hear the whole story.

Tikki recited the account the same way she told Alya and Nino. Chat stayed silent while she spoke, mutely digesting every quote and description, and he refused to show any reactions to her words. However, when she finished, and the pile of new information weighed down on his head, he couldn't stop himself from keeling forward and cradling his head in his hands.

"I should have stopped her," Tikki whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I should've said something different, something to convince her—"

"It's not your fault, Tikki," Alya insisted. She stared at her sadly. "Marinette is stubborn. If she really wanted things to be this way, she would have done it. It's almost impossible to change her mind."

Chat slowly raised his head. He looked at the three of them. "So that's it? She's gone, and all we have is her miraculous to show for it?"

"...That's not all, exactly," Nino lamented.

"We... might have a potential akuma to worry about," Alya finished dolefully.

His heart shuddered violently in his chest. Just the thought of Marinette becoming an akuma was enough for Chat's entire body to freeze over with fear. His thoughts halted and his breathing stopped. His fists were getting tighter, and he had to force himself to unfold his hands and smooth them over his knees before he accidentally broke his fingers.

Chat looked at the three of them again. He willed his voice to sound strong, but instead it came out desperate. "We need to find her."

"That's why we brought you here," Alya said. Beneath the exhaustion in her eyes, he could spot a familiar sense of determination. "We need a plan. Something to bring her home as quickly as possible."

"We need to get her before Hawk Moth does," Nino concluded, his voice bitter.

As soon as he'd said it, there was a booming clap of thunder outside, much louder than the ones that had preceded it. A few seconds later, they could hear the sound of rain splattering against the window. Chat stared at the downpour, his fingers idly digging into his knees.

He could picture it. A masked man, his father, towering over a frightened Marinette. He watched as she fought to escape from his clutches, and Chat was crying her name, trying to run after her, to save her, but Hawk Moth continued to drag her into the dark, away from him, too far from his reach, too far _away—_

Tikki's fretful voice pulled him out of his head. "Chat Noir? Are you okay?"

He shooed the thoughts from his brain. "It's nothing."

"You look like you're going to be sick," Alya noticed worriedly. "What is it?"

Chat didn't meet their eyes. "I..."

He shouldn't tell them. He really shouldn't. It was too much. They weren't emotionally stable enough, _he_ wasn't emotionally stable enough, none of them were _ready—_

"I know who Hawk Moth is."

(He shouldn't have told them.)

"Wait, _what?"_ Nino asked, standing up.

Chat's voice was small. "I just found out. Today."

"Wh—Chat!" Tikki gasped. Her eyes were wide. She stared at him with disbelief. "How— _who is it?"_

Chat implored himself not to say it. He begged himself to stay silent and refuse to divulge. The words were beating at their cage, screeching for their release, and he knew better than anyone else just how much he couldn't afford to set them loose.

But he was tired. And weak. And hollow. And hurt. And—

He looked them in the eyes. "Gabriel Agreste."

 **...**

The only sound in the room was that of the rain beating down on the earth.

"I..." Alya tapered off.

"No," Nino choked. "No, it _can't—"_

Tikki's voice was uncannily level. "Are—are you sure? Could it... could it be some misunder—"

"I know," Chat promised. "There's—there's no mis—" He shook his head. "It's him."

"Fucking hell," Alya cursed. "What kind of—how the _hell—"_

"Adrien wasn't in school today," Nino realized, his voice wobbling. He collapsed back onto the bed. His expression transformed from shocked to panicked. "He hasn't texted or answered any of my calls since yesterday morning. I haven't even seen him since—oh—oh, _shit—"_

"Adrien is safe," Chat assured them, but his empty voice made his words sound meaningless. "He's... hiding. I got him away from his house before his father could do anything."

Alya's voice was barely above a whisper. "Does he know?" she asked.

"I—yeah," he admitted softly. Chat could feel himself getting overwhelmed. It was getting harder for him to breathe. "He... he just found out, too."

Nino fumbled for his phone. "I—I need to call him."

Alya was shaking. "I'm gonna be sick."

 _'So am I,'_ Chat thought.

Tikki didn't say anything. All she did was stare at Chat, her eyes seeming to attempt to calculate something on his face. He brushed off her gaze and looked back at the two frightened teenagers before him.

Nino stared menacingly at his phone screen. "He's not picking up."

"Try again," Alya ordered hoarsely. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, and her face was buried in her knees.

Chat watched them helplessly. He wanted to say something, anything, that could possibly take away their fear for the friend that was right beside them. Part of him wished he could just tell them now, tell them that they didn't need to search for someone who was right there, but he had already overwhelmed them enough. One more identity reveal and they might've combusted with insanity, as he felt like he was about to.

 _'Keep. your. mouth. shut.'_

He tried to think of something he could say in alternative to satiate their worries. But whenever he tried to think, the same thought kept coming back, careening him away from his task and devouring his focus whole:

 _ **His father was Hawk Moth.**_

He couldn't take it. It was too painful, too much, too many thoughts at once. He gasped for breath, trying desperately to calm himself down as the words exited their broken cage and threatened to infest the entirety of his mind. His body trembled and he couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes. He was coming undone.

Nino and Alya were too preoccupied with attempting to contact Adrien to notice his inner turmoil, but Tikki wasn't.

She flew over to Alya and Nino. "I need to talk to talk to Chat Noir," she said softly. "Privately."

The teenagers looked back at the hero. His eyes were trained on his lap, but they could obviously tell something was very wrong. The two of them silently shared a look again, before they stood from the bed and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Tikki darted over to Chat. Her eyes were overflowing with a maternal type of concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

His claws dug deeper into his knees. He shook his head. "Him. It's him."

"Hawk Moth?" she asked quietly.

"Him," Chat confirmed. Tears absconded from his eyes. "He—" Chat looked up at her, the tears quickly leaking down his face. His voice was broken. "Tikki, he's my _father."_

Tikki stared at him for half a second, letting his words sink in. Once they did, he saw her eyes snap open wide with recognition. A gasp escaped her lips. She opened her mouth, the mournful name of his civilian identity on the edge of her tongue—

—but her response was cut off.

The window exploded into a million pieces, and thousands of black ladybugs flooded into the building.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 ****Cross-posted on AO3**

 ****Tumblr: chatnono**


	8. Crunch

**Warning: graphic depictions of violence and injury**

 **end me :')**

 ****I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 ** _Chapter 8: Crunch_**

* * *

Chloé did NOT akumatize Falling Star.

There wasn't anyway she could have. At the time the school got attacked, she had been sitting in her limo with Sabrina, heading back from Le Grand Paris to the school before lunch ended. She hadn't terrorized a single astronomy major—or _any_ université students, for that matter—during her outing, and her best friend had been with her the entire time, so she could truthfully vouch for her as a witness.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to care what Chloé Bourgeois and her lackey thought. No one had outright accused her of causing the akuma, but she knew a salty crowd when she saw one. Halfway through the school day, she had already been sick of the dirty looks and offhand shunning on behalf of her classmates and other passing students. Nobody but Sabrina was willing to speak to her, and her best friend's upbeat encouragement alone could only provide her with so much consolation.

It wasn't fair. So _what_ if she'd caused the most akumas out of everyone else in the city? That didn't immediately certify her as the go-to scapegoat for every single one. Besides, it's not like she tried to akumatize as many people as she did. She only dished out to people what she believed they deserved, and sometimes that meant they became victims to Hawk Moth. Tough luck. In a way, she was practically doing them all a favor; if _she_ hadn't been the one to akumatize all those people, someone else was bound to do it to them in the future. At least they got it over with now, instead of having to deal with it later on.

Chloé absentmindedly scrolled through an app on her phone, looking up every once in awhile to watch the rain run down window of the car. She was sitting in the rear of her limo, heading back from the school to her father's hotel, and she didn't think she had ever felt so relieved to be going home. The day had been utterly _exhausting_ from start to finish, and it wasn't because of her boring classes. It had been the aura in the room—so suffocatingly despondent that she'd wished it could smother her and put her out of her secondhand misery. Between Alya's sniffling, Nino's moodiness, Adrien's peculiar truancy, the absence of their missing classmate, and the overall stoic ambiance of the rest of the school, she ended up paying less attention to the teachers' lectures than usual, and placed more focus on trying to block out the depressing world around her.

But it wasn't like she didn't understand why they were so upset. She understood, and she... she _cared_. She may not have liked Marinette very much (or at all), but the girl was still her classmate. She didn't want her dead, or in danger. Besides, beneath all of that... Marinette-iness, she was still Ladybug. She was still strong and brave and someone Chloé looked up to deeply, no matter how much she now _loathed_ to admit it.

Still, Chloé was willing to do her part. She went straight to her father and made him order the police to look for the missing girl, and she made him explicitly tell them not to stop until Ladybug was safe. And later that night, she ordered the staff not to enter her room unless somebody had died, and sat alone in front of her television, obsessively waiting for good news to come.

It never did.

(In a way, it reminded her of the night Adrien's mother disappeared, and how she and Adrien had cuddled in front of the television with angry hearts and hopeful eyes, begging for the news channels to deliver something, _anything,_ akin to positive news, and never receiving it.)

Despite what many people seemed to think, Chloé wasn't heartless. Perhaps not very far from it, but not quite there yet. She deserved some credit. She was still worried for Ladybug, right alongside the rest of Paris.

She was still worried for Marinette.

All of a sudden, Chloé was pulled out of her thoughts by the driver slamming on the brakes. The girl lurched forward, only to be held back into her seat by her seat belt. She wheezed as the restraint momentarily crushed her insides before slackening again. She glared at the driver. _"Hey,_ what do you think you're do—" That's when she saw what he had stopped for. "—ing..."

There was a girl, somewhere around Chloé's age, standing still in the middle of the road. The rain was too heavy for her to be seen very clearly, but everything about her was uncannily ominous—her clothing was black and covered in white spots, and on her face sat a matching mask. Her body was rigid, and even when the driver sat on the horn, she only stared back at them, unmoving. For a second, Chloé wondered why on earth she seemed so familiar, until she spotted the girl's matching black pigtails.

Before Chloé could say her name, Marinette aimed her gloved palm at the windshield.

It took less than a second for the bullet-proof glass to shatter, and instantly the car was filling with black bugs like a flood of gushing water.

Chloé screamed. Before she could even reach for her door handle, the bugs were crawling up her legs in masses. For the first second, she was overwhelmed by fear and disgust, but when the bugs started biting, every distressed emotion was masked by anguish.

It wasn't like a mosquito bite, or a bee sting, or even a snake. It felt like a stab, like someone was digging a knife into her skin and pulling a chunk of flesh out with the blade. And it was happening _all over her body._

She began to cry. She frantically kicked her legs and hit her arms, trying desperately to brush the bugs _away,_ but nothing she did was able to disorient them. They mindlessly crawled and bit and made their way up her body, and by the time they made it to her neck Chloé was in too much pain and shock to scream anymore.

Without warning, the car door opened, and Chloé couldn't stop herself from slumping out of the limo and onto the wet pavement. Her head slammed harshly onto the pavement, but unfortunately it didn't knock her out. The bugs were crawling on her face now, and she could feel herself beginning to suffocate.

The akuma loomed over her, passive but menacing. She didn't do anything except stare as the mayor's daughter was tortured by her own bugs. Chloé wanted to curse at her, to scream, but when she tried to open her mouth, she found herself choking on her own blood.

There was too much. Too much biting, too much blood, too much pain. Every inch of her body _screamed_ in agony. She was being eaten alive.

With a final choked gasp, Chloé's eyes rolled into the back of her head.

* * *

Chat slammed open the bedroom door and skidded into the living room, Tikki in his hand and the swarm at his heels. The beating of their wings made a deafening buzzing sound, so loud it almost sounded like a chorus of screams. Chat's heart slammed in his chest and his body worked on autopilot—he pulled out his staff and spun it to shield him from the ladybugs as best as he could. They were only a little larger than normal ladybugs, but they were fast, and there were _thousands_. He didn't want to know what they would do to him if they managed to reach him.

Chat's eyes darted towards the kitchen, just in time to see Alya and Nino running towards him, their own mob of ladybugs chasing after them. "Over here!" he called.

Alya and Nino ducked behind Chat and his shield. Chat handed Tikki to Alya so he could better handle the shield, and Alya placed Tikki in her pocket with one hand and latched onto Nino's forearm with the other. The three teenagers backed up until the were cornered against the wall. The bugs towered over them like a tidal wave. Chat made his shield a little larger.

(Deep down, he knew who it was. He knew the akuma's identity before he even saw her, but, _oh,_ how he wished it _weren't true.)_

He floundered to think of a plan, _any_ plan, that could get all four of them to safety, but his brain was having a hard time thinking on its own under a mental pressure this great. There were just so _many_ of them, and even if he did manage to fight off one section of bugs, another would have already reached his defenseless friends. For now, all he could do was work defensively and pray for a way out.

The ladybugs began to find their way beyond his shield, handful by handful. The ones that reached Chat didn't do anything except latch onto his impenetrable suit, which briefly confused him until one landed on his extremely penetrable cheek and sunk its knife-like teeth deep into his skin. He quickly swatted it off, and he heard Alya and Nino cry out behind him as their completely exposed flesh became a feasting ground. Chat grit his teeth and spun his staff more quickly.

"We need to get out of here!" Tikki cried over the loud buzzing. "Chat, do you see an opening?"

Chat tried to survey the room for any potential exits, but the ladybugs were closed in on them. The only opening was way above their heads, and it was too close to the ceiling to be a viable escape. If they tried to move forward, the ladybugs would get them from behind. And if the ladybugs closed in any more, there was only so much Chat would be able to do before it happened anyway. Using Cataclysm would be virtually useless, and without his partner to help, all four of their lives were in his hands alone.

Suddenly, Chat heard Nino let out a particularly loud cry, and when he looked back to see the matter, he watched in alarm as Nino fell onto the floor. Taking advantage, the ladybugs redirected all of their focus off of Chat and Alya and waved towards the fallen teenager. Alya quickly tried to grasp onto her boyfriend, but it was already too late—the ladybugs, now caked onto Nino's entire lower half, began to drag him out from beneath the shield.

The last Chat saw of Nino were his wide golden eyes and his hands clawing at the floor, before he vanished into the swarm.

Alya screamed at the top of her lungs. She tried to get past Chat, past the shield, but in his blind panic, he kept her cornered against the wall. "NO!" she protested. "No no no no, let me **_go!"_**

Chat looked helplessly at the horde. The ladybugs flocked to Nino like flies to a dead body. Or perhaps, in a way, more like crows to a carcass.

He couldn't breathe.

She rammed her hands against his back. "We have to _help_ him, please, _please."_

Chat couldn't tear his gaze from Nino. He couldn't see him, but he heard what sounded like soft sobbing coming from beneath the swarm. Rage and fear flooded through his body, similar to the way it did when he first found out Hawk Moth's identity. Only, this time, it wasn't his father slipping away, it was _Nino_.

(But... he couldn't help as Alya begged him to. The bugs were too vicious, and there were too many, and there wasn't... there was no way.)

(There was no use in trying to save him.)

He had to force himself to look away from his suffering friend, and the one action made his heart feel as though it was being engulfed in flames. It was the first time that he ever willingly turned his back on someone in need, and he didn't think he'd ever felt so fucking terrible in his life.

He didn't have any idea how his voice came out so evenly. "We need to get out of here while they're focused on him. Now's our chance."

(Oh _dieu_ did he hate saying that.)

Chat couldn't see her face, but he could imagine she was staring at the back of his head in horror. "What?! No! W-we can't just _leave_ him here!"

He didn't reply for a moment. Nino had fallen deathly silent.

"Alya," he said carefully. His voice tremored. "There's nothing I can do. There's nothing _you_ can do. He's not—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

He could hear tears in Alya's voice. The pounding on his back grew slower and slower. "No... no... please... _please..."_

Chat knew they couldn't wait any longer. Without replying, he gripped Alya's wrist and quickly began to drag her away from the wall, but she was too harrowed to protest. The ladybugs realized they were moving, and suddenly they began to move towards them again in a huge mass. Prepared, Chat quickly shoved Alya out the front door—

—and, _just in time,_ he managed to lock it behind them.

The two of them slowly backed away from the door, until their backs hit the opposite side of the hallway. In sync, the two of them slid down the wall until their butts landed on the floor. Chat stared at the closed door in disbelief.

Alya broke.

She leaned forward and buried her face deep into her hands. Her messy hair fell over her shoulders, and her body shook as she began to sob.

"Gone," she cried, over and over. "Gone, gone, they're all _gone."_ She trembled. "Gone... gone... gone..."

Chat timidly raised a gloved hand, hoping to somehow find a way to comfort her, but his hand only hovered by her shoulder, never making contact. He was afraid to touch her; she looked so utterly _devastated_ that even a single touch might've been enough to destroy her completely.

Alya moaned through her tears, her words barely coherent. "First Marinette was... and then Adrien... and _Nino..."_ She let out another wracking sob. "They're all gone. He was the only one I had left. I-I'm _all alone."_

 _'No, you're not,'_ Chat thought desperately. _'I'm right here. I'm_ right. here.'

Tikki slowly poked her head out of Alya's pocket, appearing for the first time since they escaped the apartment. Her eyes were full of sorrow, and she wordlessly nuzzled her head into Alya's side in an attempt to provide the poor girl with some solace. Chat finally laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Alya..."

Alya sniffled, but carefully raised her head. Her eyes were terribly red and her face was flushed. She looked like she was about so say something, when suddenly, her breath hitched, and her eyes fell down to her legs. Chat followed her gaze.

The wounds that the ladybug bites left behind were deep and gaping. They chewed right through her clothes and into her flesh, and they were comparable to the appearance of bullet wounds. The bites were scattered all over the surface of her body, but her legs were the most damaged. Blood still oozed through the openings and leaked onto the floor, and the skin surrounding them was throbbing and inflamed.

Alya swallowed thickly. _"Fuck."_

"It—it'll be okay," he stammered, but even he didn't believe his own words. Thanks to his suit, Chat didn't have nearly as many wounds. He had three on his face, maybe a fourth bite on the back of his head. Just staring at the multitude on her legs was enough to make him feel sick.

Tikki flew out of Alya's pocket and moved closer to her legs to inspect the injuries. Her eyes glazed with concern. "Oh, Alya..." she whispered.

Chat heaved himself to his feet, pausing a second to steady his stance. He looked down at his injured friend. "Can you stand?" he asked.

Alya held her arms out for help, and Chat grasped them. Tediously, the two of them worked to get Alya into standing position, but it proved to be very difficult for the girl. Now that adrenaline had vanished from her system, the pain was a hundred times more prominent, and Alya's wounded legs could barely hold her own weight. Eventually, they were able to get her to stand upright, but not without her leaning heavily against Chat for support.

Chat squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Do... you want me to carry you?"

Breathless, she shook her head. "No, no, I—I need to do this."

He glanced at her reluctantly. "Are you sure?"

She sent him an all-too-familiar baleful glare.

Chat looked forward. "Alright, then."

They took it slow. The first steps were the hardest—tears were leaking down her face by the time they passed the door to her neighbor's apartment. Walking didn't appear to get any easier, but Alya seemed to get used to it, and she was able to brave the agony and move forward.

The two were somewhat successfully making their way down the hall, until Alya unexpectedly stopped walking. Chat halted beside her, confused. "Alya?"

"Shh," she hissed. _"Listen."_

Chat suddenly felt chilled. He shut his mouth and strained his ears to hear. At first, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be listening for, but as the noise grew closer, he heard it.

Buzzing.

Not daring to waste any time, Chat scooped Alya off her feet, and he began running down the hall in the opposite direction. However, the ladybugs seemed to sense their rush, because they careened around the corner and hurtled after the two of them at rocket speed. Chat grit his teeth and pulled out his staff so he could launch him and Alya down the hall, when he realized that there were ladybugs coming towards them from _both ends_ of the hallway.

He skidded to a stop and looked frantically back and forth. Both hordes of ladybugs were about the same distance away from him and Alya, and at the speed they were going, he reckoned he had about ten seconds to find an escape.

He couldn't go forward. He couldn't go back. He couldn't go down...

Seconds before the bugs collided, Chat jumped on his staff and shot the two of them towards the ceiling.

The staff rocked a little as the ladybugs swirled around it, but the weapon was made to endure such disturbances. Alya clung frightenedly onto the hero, and she buried her face into his neck. "Get us out," she pleaded. He didn't think he'd ever heard her sound so scared. "I—I don't want—"

"It's okay," he tried to assure her, his grip on her tightening. He didn't blame her for being so terrified—they'd both seen just how dangerous these bugs were, and they knew this was _nothing_ like any akuma they'd faced before. This one's powers were far more violent, and far, far more deadly. And knowing who was behind it... he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the same.

The bugs flew up towards the ceiling. Chat raised the staff as high as he could, until his head was pressed against the plaster and going any higher would result in a broken neck. The bugs began to latch onto his suit again, and Chat knew he was quickly running out of time to act.

As the bugs piled themselves onto him and Alya, Chat felt himself growing more unsteady. The bugs that bit at his head were painful, but bearable. Alya, on the other hand, was once again subjected to bites on every square inch of her body. Chat tried to swat them off of her as best as he could, and it did help a little, but not very much. All of this, while teetering on his staff, grasping onto Alya with his life, and being shoved against a ceiling... he wasn't sure how much longer they would last.

It wasn't very long at all.

Alya slipped. The weight of the bugs dragged her body from his tired arms, but Chat desperately clung to her. "Alya!" he cried.

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide in pain. The bugs scuttled up her back and through her hair. Her legs were no longer visible. Her face was pale, and sweat and blood dripped down her face. "Reach in my pocket," she gasped through the torment. "The miraculous."

Chat briefly reached into her pocket and grabbed the box. Tikki was pulling up at Alya's collar, trying to help him release her from the ladybugs' grasp. But no matter how much they tried, the bugs just kept piling on and rising up her body. They could feel Alya growing limper.

"Ch-Chat," she said, her voice cracking. The pain in her face was still present, but it was accompanied by a mask of begrudged acceptance. He preferred the pain. "Go. Let me go."

His eyes widened. "Wh— _no,"_ he refused. "I—Alya, _**no—"**_

She didn't give him the chance to object. She gave him one last tearful glance. "Say hi to Mari."

Alya tore her arms from his grasp, and plummeted into the swarm.

"NO!"

Like with Nino, the rest of the ladybugs removed their focus from Chat in favor of attacking the much more easily attainable victim on the ground. Chat could only watch as Alya's body was covered by the bloodthirsty insects, and he could feel an unsurprising sense of déjà vu wash over himself.

After a moment, Tikki's choked voice cut through the silence. Her words were barely audible. "We need to go."

Chat forced himself to tear his eyes away from a helpless friend the second time that day. He looked hollowly at the kwami. Unable to summon his voice, he could only nod in response.

With no bugs to get in his way, retreating to the stairs proved to be much easier this time around. Chat didn't speak as he extended himself up the staircase, Tikki gently hanging onto him by his collar. He landed on the final landing with a muted 'thump,' in front of the door the led to the roof, and as soon as he opened it, Chat was greeted by a burst of cold air and the sight of heavy rainfall. A boom of loud thunder sounded, followed by a crack of lightning firing across the dark sky. He stared contemplatively at the downpour for a moment, before he ultimately stepped beyond the threshold.

The shock was beginning to wear off, bit by painful bit. He knew it wouldn't be long before his brain processed the gravity of everything that just happened, and he was really dreading it, to say the least. A part of him wished he could stay in this numb-like stasis for the rest of his life. What a life that would be, one without any feelings. It sounded like a great alternative to the shitstorm of emotions that had accumulated in his body only over the past day. He craved simplicity, craved the predictability of every coming day. He wouldn't have to miss his mother or despise his father or feel so absurdly lonely within that too-large house. And he wouldn't feel so guilty for letting so many people slip through his fingers.

The loss crashed onto him like a wave upon the shore. He fell to his knees, his body shaking violently, and he put his head in his hands. Chat felt Tikki land on his head and he heard her whisper to him in an effort to allocate him with a sense of commiseration, but unfortunately, the kwami's kind words did nothing to hold back the fractured sobs that escaped his mouth.

He couldn't take this. First Marinette, then his father, and now Alya and Nino. He lost them both. He lost them _all._

Why, _why,_ out of them all, was _he_ chosen to remain?

Chat uncovered his hands from his face and leaned forward on his hands, trying to catch his breath. He might've stayed there all day, keeled over on the roof while his body was showered by rain, but then he felt a familiar crawling sensation going up his arm. When he looked down, he was greeted by a black ladybug scattering up his bicep. Chat quickly flicked it off and watched it land on the wet asphalt, where it joined a small group of ladybugs creeping their way towards him.

 **...**

He could feel her staring at him.

 **...**

Slowly, Chat raised his head. First he saw her feet, a few meters in front of him, where she wore black ballet flats and black knee-socks that were covered in white spots. She wore a black short-sleeved shirt with white spots, whose neckline rose all the way up her neck and whose hem cut off in the middle of her abdomen. Her matching skirt went down to her knees, and her arms were concealed by a pair of spotted elbow-length gloves. Her body was soaking and her pigtails clung to her shoulders with water, but she appeared to be completely unfazed by the rain.

On her face, there was a black and white-spotted mask, the design unsurprisingly similar to the mask of Ladybug. But the eyes that bore through the eyeholes were dauntingly unfamiliar—cold and hard and blank, as opposed to the bright, warm eyes he remembered. These were hostile and void of life, akin to the eyes of a corpse. Yet he knew they were hers, because they were still the same unreplicable shade of blue that made his heart _sing._

Chat was frozen. He couldn't stand or sit up or even wipe the tears from his eyes. All he could do was gape at her, his green eyes wide and his throat closed. And through the catastrophe of thoughts spiralling inside his brain, only one word managed to ring clear:

 ** _'Marinette_**.'

 **...**

 **...**

She didn't blink.

 **...**

 **...**

She didn't speak.

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

With a flick of her wrist, she fired a swarm in his direction.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 ****cross-posted on ao3**

 ****tumblr: chatnono**


	9. Pulse

**Stay strong, kids.**

 ****I do not own Miraculous Ladybug**

 _ **Chapter 9: Pulse**_

* * *

 ** _"Wake."_**

 _When she finally came to, Marinette woke up in a sea of darkness. She felt as though all of the the life had been sucked out of her, like her soul had been ripped from her chest, and all that remained in its place was a hollow, emptied space. She could feel the pressure of the water weighing her down, and even if Marinette did have the energy to swim, the heavy chains tethering her arms and legs prevented her from struggling._

 _There was no use in opening her eyes—the world she observed was as pitch-black as the backs of her eyelids, so dark she was almost convinced she was blind. And it was so deathly silent that she couldn't even hear the sound of her own breath; so silent she was almost convinced she was deaf. The water was freezing, removing the feeling from her fingers and toes, and the rest of her skin had erupted in goosebumps. Everything around her was still, except when the occasional current rose and dragged through the water, swaying her body, but never quite setting her free._

 _Her first rational thought was that this was death. That this was where, now that her mortal body could no longer sustain life, she would be trapped for the rest of eternity. That a dark, cold ocean of isolation, the realm of the lifeless, was all she had left to call her home._

 _But, as it turned out, she wasn't completely alone._

 _There was a voice that suddenly cut through the darkness. It was a deep, entrancing murmur, but it felt as though someone was whispering right in her ear: **"See."**_

 _Marinette's eyes flew open. Her eyes searched the darkness, looking for the voice's owner, but never finding it. However, this soon became the least of her worries, because then her mind was struck by waves of visions so vivid she felt as though they were real:_

 **A crack of bright lightning splitting the dark, clouded sky—**

 **Her foot splashing in a rain puddle, the water tinged red with blood—**

 **A heavy, urgent pressure building up in her hands, before black ladybugs spilled out of a dark glow on her gloved palms—**

 **The screams of her countless victims slowly diminishing to silence—**

 **Familiar green eyes growing wide with paralytic fear—**

 _She squeezed her eyes shut._ 'No more,' _she thought, begging for it to stop. Marinette mentally tried to shove the unwanted imagery back where it came from, but the visions never ceased, never even slowed. She tried to raise her hands to her head, hoping to someone shake the illusions from her mind, but the shackles on her arms didn't allow her to. She pulled and kicked and fought to set herself free, but the restraints never broke._

 _She was trapped in her own mind._

 _ **"Don't fight it,"** the voice laughed, his breathy chuckle sending chills up her spine. **"This is your chance for justice."**_

'No no no no—'

 ** _"Ruin the city that has ruined you."_**

 _Marinette's struggling gradually grew less and less forceful. Her blood grew thick with emotional and physical fatigue, and her judgement clouded with lethargy. Eventually she fell still, and the tears in her eyes mixed with the murky water._

 _She bowed her head, and let him take over._

* * *

 **...**

Tikki stayed curled up in Chat's pocket, right beside the miraculous box. She could feel him hustling around spasmodically, his movements messy and jerking in an attempt to keep up with the unpredictable akuma. She kept her eyes closed and her head pressed against his chest, unable to do anything except ride out the battle and hope for the best. The feeling of his rapidly beating heart did nothing to slow her figurative one.

It was times like this, when her heroes were in a peril so horrifyingly great that they got lost in their own fear, that she loathed being a kwami. Yes, Tikki was an all-powerful being that was able to create superheroes and save the world, but she was just so _small_. The most she could provide beyond superpowers was her millennia of acquired knowledge. Tikki couldn't give them an extra set of hands; only Fu had that kind of power to give.

She heard Chat shout, and she felt his voice rumble in his chest. Tikki curled up tighter when he slammed into the ground, and accidentally squished her between him and the pavement. He got up as soon as he fell, though, and she felt his palm cup around the small bulge she made in his suit, as if silently asking her if she was okay. Tikki only had a moment to press her hand against his palm in reassurance, before Chat pulled away and resumed using both hands to fight.

Tikki'd had her suspicions about who Chat was behind the mask, as she always did whenever her Ladybug worked with a new hero. At over five thousand years into the game, she had gotten better at picking them out from the crowd, even though every Chat's personality varied, and every relationship the partners had outside the mask was dissimilar. But, usually, she had this way of just _knowing;_ for example, whenever her previous Ladybug, Bridgette, interacted with the cold and oddly mysterious Félix at their school, it always set off little alarms in her head, until everything fell into place when the heroes revealed themselves to each other years later.

With Adrien, her _'lucky feeling'_ (as Plagg liked to call it) didn't buzz quite as loudly as it did with the last Chat, but she always left him open as a strong possibly. Ladybug and Chat Noir always had a way of being drawn to each other both in and outside the mask, but it wasn't consistently in the form of a crush. She'd seen Ladybug and Chat become best friends outside the mask, and then fall in love with separate people. She'd seen them absolutely hate each other in civilian life, but work amazingly well together in hero form. She'd seen it the other way around. Sometimes they were related, cousins or siblings, or possibly even twins. And sometimes they didn't even know each other's names, but still admired each other from afar.

It was always different.

But she'd _hoped_ this one was Adrien. The more she learned about the neglected boy as the year went on, the more she realized how special he was. He was an outstanding, selfless friend with a good, all-loving heart, and Marinette loved him dearly so. And despite Chat being a lot more outgoing than the humble boy, at the end of the day, it wasn't that hard to spot all of the personality parallels between them. As far as Tikki was concerned, there wasn't anyone more ideal who could've been chosen to be Ladybug's other half.

Tikki just resented that she had to find out like _this._

While the lives of Ladybug and Chat's secret identities always tended to coincide with each other, other miraculous heroes—or, in this case, villains—tended to not be far behind. Like she said, she knew it was possible for miraculous holders to be related, but it just hadn't crossed her mind that Gabriel would do something like this, especially after what happened to Christine—to be honest, she didn't think he had the guts. She'd thought his heart had gone cold from grief, and that any effort still stuck on caring for his family had been redirected into running his fashion business.

Then again, as Tikki had recurrently seen over the many, many years of her existence, it seemed some humans would do anything for love... apparently even if it meant terrorizing an entire city just to get their wife back. And... she supposed she understood that; whenever one of her Ladybugs' lives got taken from her before their time, she felt that, if she could, she would be willing to trade places with them in an instant. Even if it meant she only got to bring back that one life, out of the countless, countless others she'd lost.

But just because she understood his motives, didn't mean she condoned his actions. Gabriel didn't have the right to abuse Nooroo's powers like that, even if it was to bring back his wife. Terrible things happened to the wrong people all the time, and while Tikki _still_ wasn't exactly sure why it had to be that way, she did know that there was always a way to move forward. Perhaps it wouldn't be easy, but shouldn't the effort be worth it?

It broke her heart to see a man with virtually everything—a famous name and brand for a profession he'd loved all his life, euros flowing into his pocket like water down a waterfall, a social, political, and economic standing that most people could only dream of achieving, and perhaps the best son _any_ man could ask for—throw all of it away, just for that girl. Granted, Christine was an irreplaceable spirit that didn't deserve the sentence she'd received, but how could he not see _everything_ that was right in front of him? At the very least, how could he not see **_Adrien?_**

Through the anxiety churning in her chest, Tikki felt an onslaught of anger. She was angry at Gabriel for being so insufferably stupid, and selfish. No single life was worth endangering the lives, safety, and sanities of others, especially if it happened to be affecting a group of _children_ the most. Especially when it directly affected the son of the very person he was trying to resurrect.

 _His_ son, for crying out loud.

Tikki glowered to herself. She had encountered countless enemies in the past, both with and without super abilities, and not a single one of them was easy to defeat. She would be fooling herself if she tried to pick out the most heinous one—although, there definitely were ones that far surpassed their predecessors—just like she would be fooling herself to pick out her favorite Ladybug. There was so much to take into account, and they all varied in every single way. If one lacked something in one skill, they somehow made up for it in another, and while this redeeming quality was great for strengthening heroes, it wasn't all that great when it strengthened their villains as well.

What Hawk Moth seemed to lack in common sense, he made up for in perseverance. In ambition. In violence. That combination of traits alone was a complete recipe for disaster.

And if the events of the past day had been any proof at all, Tikki knew that disaster had definitely struck.

Marinette and Adrien didn't deserve any of this. Marinette didn't deserve to get hurt, or have her identity revealed, or become akumatized. Adrien didn't deserve to feel so guilty, or to have to fight his best friend, or to discover his father's identity the way he did. Hell, even Alya and Nino, who were unfortunately dragged into this mess as well, _definitely_ didn't deserve to meet that kind of fate, and nor did rest of the unquestionable mass of victims.

Tikki's figurative heart tightened in her chest.

But, as scary as it might've been to believe, this actually was not the first time a miraculous holder's identity had been revealed to the public. In fact, it wasn't all that uncommon. Sometimes the hero or heroine even did it intentionally, when the circumstances were right, but most of the time, it happened by accident, or, worse, as a result of sabotage. And after years and years of witnessing the ranging reveal-induced turmoil that her Ladybugs and their fellow partners went through, Tikki understandably became extremely cautious about protecting the identities of the heroes that followed.

If only she could have done more to protect Marinette.

Tikki suddenly herself dropping, indicating that Chat had jumped down from a high distance. He ran a few more steps before he lowered himself to the ground and unzipped his pocket, silently permitting Tikki to come out.

The kwami slowly emerged from Chat's suit. She looked sluggishly at the pounding rain, and she realized that they were somewhat sheltered underneath the canopy of a few trees. Chat was hiding behind one of the trunks, leaning back against the bark for support and breathing heavily. He was completely soaked from fighting in the rain, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Before she could ask him if he was hurt, she heard his ring beep, and she saw that there was a single paw print left of his transformation, indicating he'd already used his Cataclysm. She heard him murmur "Claws off," and she shielded her eyes from the surge of green light that enveloped him. When the light faded, Adrien Agreste sat in his place, and Plagg landed in his cupped palms.

Adrien wordlessly reached into his sweatshirt and pulled out some camembert. He passed it to the kwami, who took it without so much as a grunt and scarfed down the whole thing in less than a minute. Tikki scrunched her face.

Once he was done, Plagg floated off of Adrien's hand, and for the first time, his green eyes locked with hers. There was a moment of jarring happiness and relief, as they normally felt whenever they reconnected after a long time, and especially when it happened to be during a time of peril. His normally sharp eyes melted in her gaze, and he looked like he had a million things he wanted to say to her, just as she felt like with him. Tikki floated up to his side, but they both turned their attention to Adrien, knowing now was not the time for a proper reunion. Still, Tikki discreetly slipped her hand into his, the first contact they'd made in decades upon decades.

Adrien finally opened his eyes. They were tired and red and leaking silent tears onto his cheeks. When he saw both kwamis staring at him worriedly, he turned his head to the side.

"I can't do this," he told them, his voice strained, as if it was painful for him to speak. "I—I can't fight her, I can't s-stand watching that— _thing_ —control her—"

"Adrien," Plagg said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, but it only seemed to bristle Adrien even more. He spoke carefully. "I need you to trust me, when I say everything is going to be okay."

The hero looked back at him in disbelief, but instead of his voice sounding incredulous, it was only watery and trembling. "How can you even say that?" His voice broke. "My friends are _dead,_ and it's all my fault. My _father_ is my nemesis, and I somehow never noticed? I didn't find Ladybug in time, and now she's _akumatized,_ and Paris knows who she is, and now they're getting _eaten alive."_ He ran a hand through his hair. "Even if I somehow _do_ defeat her..." Adrien choked. **_"Nothing_** is going to be _'okay.'"_

Tikki let go of Plagg's hand, her figurative heart aching. She slowly tried to go through his words in her head, seeing if there was somehow a way to make him feel better. Eventually, "Civilian death by akuma is reversible," she began softly. "Even though they're... gone, once you use the Miraculous Cure, they'll all come back without a single scratch." She reached up and wiped a falling tear from underneath his eye. "And, under the circumstances you were given, there _really_ wasn't anything you could have done to save them, Adrien. It's not your fault."

"You can't blame yourself for not noticing Gabriel, either," Plagg added, his tone sympathetic. "I've lived in the same house as you and was as close to him as you were, and I didn't notice either." The kwami's voice hardened. "He's a grown man who made an irrational, irresponsible decision. He's the only one at fault here."

Adrien looked down at his hands in his lap, seeming to contemplate their words. His wet locks drooped down his forehead and fell in his eyes. When he spoke at last, his voice was barely audible. "So..." he looked up from his hands, "...what do we do now?"

Plagg and Tikki shared a look. Tikki spoke forward hesitantly. "Well... the _last_ time the Butterfly miraculous was abused, Plagg's Chui got akumatized. She was far more powerful than any akuma I've ever seen, and... she ended up destroying most of her island before Mende was able to put a stop to it." She looked to her partner for help. "But..."

"...She didn't make it," Plagg finished quietly. "Mende... had to stab her, to release the akuma. And the cure doesn't work on the heroes."

Adrien's eyes widened in complete horror. "Is—is this supposed to make me _feel_ better?"

"Neither of you are going to die," Tikki said firmly. Her blue eyes shimmered with determination. "Mende made a lot of mistakes. He didn't think sensibly before acting, and in the end he had to pay for it. Now we know, to fight an akuma like this, you have to take on a very careful approach."

He was silent for a moment. Eventually, he asked, "And what approach might that be?"

"Marinette's powers are, in part, a distraction. Hawk Moth is trying to keep you away so he can get your miraculous, without you being able talk to her."

He stared at Tikki. "...Talk to her?"

"The bond between her and the akuma is much weaker than that of a civilian," Plagg began to explain. "Where a normal person could never completely go against Hawk Moth's will, someone who's bonded to another miraculous can. It's not _easy,_ but—"

"You can do it, Adrien," Tikki insisted, her voice ringing with wholehearted trust. "Coax her out of it. Remind her who she is." Her eyes shined doubtlessly. "Once you get her out of his influence, get the akuma."

The gears in Adrien's brain appeared to be turning, but he still seemed conflicted. "But, what about the akuma? How am I going to use the cure? I don't—"

Tikki darted into Adrien's pocket, and reemerged with the miraculous box in her grasp. She dropped the box in his hand. "You'll use this."

He looked down at the box, then looked up at the kwamis in confusion. "Is that even safe?"

"If it's only temporarily, yes," Plagg said. "You're just going to use it for the cure and the purification, and maybe Lucky Charm, if you must. Just _don't_ use both miraculouses concurrently."

Adrien paused for a moment, before he opened the box and stared at the earrings. He still looked wary, but his tears had dried by now. Tikki could see a dose of hope slowly brightening in his green eyes, and the destressing kwami took this as a good sign.

And then he said, "But... my ears aren't pierced."

The kwamis shared another look.

Adrien didn't even have to ask what they were thinking. He gently pinched one of his virgin earlobes in reluctance, and sighed. "Just do it quickly."

Plagg and Tikki each grabbed their own earring. Tikki had done this many, many times before, and Plagg, who was sometimes present in those times to assist, was also fairly practiced. By this point, they had a five second system: on the silent count of three, they simultaneously pricked the jewelry into his ears, and clipped them in place. Adrien inhaled sharply, and his eyes stung, but he didn't say anything.

When they began to back away from his ears, Adrien began to raise his hand to touch one, but Tikki swatted his hand down. "No, let them sit."

Adrien lowered his hand back into his lap. He looked around the trunk of the tree and stared out at the pouring rain. It was still coming down hard, but it seemed to have lightened up at least a little bit. He looked back at his kwamis, fear beginning to surface in his eyes once more. "I have to go find her."

"It's going to be okay," Plagg reiterated, stronger this time.

Tikki nodded in agreement. "You can do this," she encouraged again.

After a silent moment, Adrien nodded slowly, as if willing himself to believe their words. He never responded verbally, but he clapped the miraculous box shut and stuffed it back in his pocket before he slowly got to his feet.

He turned to her. "What's the phrase?" he asked.

"Say 'spots on' to transform, and 'spots off' to undo," she said calmly.

Adrien took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He wrung out his hands, then clenched them into fists. In that instant, Tikki could see Chat's familiar zeal ignite in Adrien's eyes, significantly blending the two separate boys into one hero.

He was going to be okay—they all were.

(They _had_ to be.)

With one last breath, he echoed, "Spots on."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **Chui = Leopard and Mende = Beetle/Cockroach in Swahili. (They were in 14th-ish century Kilwa Kisiwani)**

 **I hope this chapter was able to provide you with some answers... as well as leave you with a few more questions.**

 **If you need something to cheer you up, I posted another fic called Nice To See You that's a lot less angsty and 100% more Ladrieny (I mean it still has angst but _not as much as this)_**

 **Warning: next chapter's gonna be fucking loaded so say your prayers**

 ****cross-posted on ao3**

 ****tumblr: chatnono**


	10. Echo

**Thanks for being patient!**

 _ **Chapter 10: Echo**_

* * *

Ladybug flattened himself against the wall of the building, trying to keep his heavy breathing as quiet as possible, even though the akuma probably couldn't hear him from all the way on the other side of the street. His fingers squeezed tightly around the yo-yo in his hand, hoping to somehow channel the same familiarity and comfort from this foreign weapon that he could with his staff. But the yo-yo wasn't any less unfamiliar, and Ladybug wasn't any more ready for what he was about to do.

He had a plan... kind of. It probably wasn't a very _good_ plan, and it involved taking many, many risks he probably couldn't spare to take. Ladybug wasn't too confident that it was going to work, because so far nothing had even made a dent in the akuma's seemingly unbreakable armor, and with a strategy so bold and parlous he was probably going to get killed in the process. But _damn it_ if he wasn't going to try his best to save her.

Tikki's advice resonated through his head again. _"You can do it, Adrien. Coax her out of it. Remind her who she is."_

"You can do it," he repeated to himself, under his breath. The faux confidence in his voice sounded almost believable. "You can save her." His resolve began to slip as quickly as it had stationed. "You… you can…"

Ladybug hurriedly shook his head. This wasn't the time to start spiraling downward. His hands were shaking and his heart was pounding, and somehow, through the weight of it all, he found the power within himself to take a deep breath and unwind the string of his yo-yo. And, before the doubt could sink back in, before he could let himself back out, he hurled his yo-yo and swung himself off his feet.

He could do it.

* * *

Swinging across Paris at the mercy of a yo-yo was about as difficult as it sounded, even for a sort-of-experienced superhero. Magical or not, a yo-yo was still a yo-yo, and Ladybug didn't even know how to use the toy for its inherent purpose, nevertheless how to use it to beat up bad guys and soar through the city. He'd hoped that this would be easier than he expected it to be, but... let's just say, the journey to rescue His Lady was not off to the most ideal start.

Ladybug remembered the first moment he ever saw Ladybug (the _Marinette_ Ladybug, not the Chat Noir/Adrien one), when she flew through the air and crashed on top of Chat Noir, consequence of her lack of yo-yo-swinging experience. It took both of them a while to adjust to this whole hero-thing, although Chat liked to think that he was more excited to learn than his partner—no, he _knew_ he was. But Maribug's reluctance did not make her any less of a phenomenal hero. In fact, if anything, it was Chat's 'act first, ask questions later' approach that proved to be a larger hindrance, if his first overexcited transformation was any form of admissible proof.

The point was, this costume, this weapon, these powers—this was not his niche. His skill-set wasn't developed with this miraculous; his abilities wouldn't align with these provisions, at least not right away, not in the time he needed it to. And while he wasn't normally against winging things, while he was often excited to test his luck to its limits... now was not the time.

Luckily, he didn't have to precariously swing for much longer. He found her shortly after his search began, sitting on the lawn in front of the Musée Rodin, her black ladybugs continuing to circle around her in their screaming terror. Clumps of grass and dirt flew through the air as the lawn eroded, and Ladybug jumped—i.e. fell—behind a tree before she could sense him, as well as before something could fly in his face and render him blind.

After taking half a second to catch his breath, Ladybug recalled phase two of his alleged 'plan.' He untied the yo-yo from his waist with stiff fingers, and, as quickly and quietly as possible, he summoned his Lucky Charm. There was a brief flash of light, and he blindly fumbled to catch the light item in his hands... only to nearly drop it when he realized what it was.

(He didn't know charms could be any color other than red and black.)

Forcing himself out of his shock, he shakily pocketed the Lucky Charm and rewound his yo-yo, his mind spinning. He didn't need to think over how he was going to make use of the magical item, but in all of the chaos over the past few days, he'd completely forgotten about it. He—he didn't—

 _He hadn't told her yet._

* * *

 **...**

 **Two Nights Earlier**

 **...**

It was all Plagg's fault.

Well. Maybe it was also sort of Adrien's fault for not noticing it earlier, but that's only because he was terribly oblivious, which was because he had the worst luck on the planet, which, oh wait, _was also Plagg's fault._

As of late, the lazy kwami had taken to sleeping in Adrien's sock drawer, for god-knows-what reason. When questioned, Plagg's only explanation had been, "Well I'm not going to nap in your _underwear."_ Adrien was more than a little peeved by this, but by this point in their less-than-perfect relationship, he had learned to, when in doubt, let Plagg do whatever he wanted. Doing so had spared Adrien a lot of grief that he couldn't afford to waste on a pesky cat.

On that night, Adrien was so tired he was almost falling asleep on his feet. Earlier that day, he'd had two difficult tests, three Chloé tantrums, a photo shoot right after school, and then patrols right after that until midnight. He probably would've patrolled longer than that, too (Hawk Moth's absence continued to hang over the his and Ladybug's heads, and by this point they didn't even question patrolling overtime), but then Ladybug reluctantly told him that she had to leave because she had a big assignment due tomorrow, and Adrien suddenly remembered that he himself had a physics project due in the morning that, considering how little time he'd had lately, he hadn't even started to work on. So, after a fast farewell, the heroes departed and headed home, Adrien a little more quickly, to complete their individual work.

Fortunately, physics was one of his favorite subjects, and years of private tutoring had taught him how to do work quickly, efficiently, and independently. By 1h00, he'd typed out a third of his paper, which only left two-thirds and the oral presentation, which would probably only take him an hour or two to plan out. In the end, he would be done by 4h, or 5h at the latest. And that still left him with one complete, wholesome hour of sleep, which was probably more sleep than the overworked child had gotten all month.

Unfortunately, when calculating his plan, Adrien hadn't factored in the possibility of Plagg fucking up everything, which he probably should have, because _of course_ _Plagg was going to fuck something up have you even met the guy._

He didn't notice it at first. Adrien's nose was so used to the stench of Plagg's stupid cheese, and he was too immersed in his work to pay much attention to the atmosphere of the room. The smell gradually got worse as Adrien gradually grew more and more focused, and when he finally did notice it he just decided to ignore it, as one learned to do when living with the distasteful kwami. But then the stench got so horrifically putrid that simply breathing became a dreaded task, and Adrien slammed his textbook shut with an irritated sigh before relenting to find out why his room was smelling like camembert much more profoundly than it usually did.

"Plagg," he called, standing up from his chair. His eyes flitted around the room, searching for the troublesome roommate. "What the _heck_ are you doing with your cheese?"

Adrien's sock drawer rattled, then popped open. After a beat, Plagg's head poked out. "Eating it, of course."

Adrien walked over to the drawer and peered inside. He immediately recoiled and pinched his nose with his fingers to block out the stench.

No wonder the room smelled so bad—his _entire drawer_ was _covered_ in camembert.

His eye twitched. He looked back at the shameless kwami. _"Why."_

"Well it wasn't on _purpose."_

"Oh my god."

So instead of working on his very important physics project, Adrien spent the greater half of the night trying to clean the inside of his drawer while reminding Plagg every other minute how much he was hated.

Adrien ripped the disgusting drawer out of the dresser, astoundingly not breaking the framework in the process, and stomped over to his bathroom like a disgruntled child. Then, holding his breath, he grabbed handfuls of sticky socks and blindly shoved them in a plastic bag, grumbling under his breath. He had half a mind to set the bag on fire once it was filled, rather than to deliver it to the washing machines, but he begrudgingly shoved that pyromaniac idea back in the idea box.

(Adrien's taxing fatigue was not corresponding well with his overwhelming stress.)

Distracted by his exhaustion and his desire to be doing literally anything else but this, Adrien didn't realize he was finished until his hands grabbed the final article in the drawer, which was too long to be a sock. Eyes watering from the stench, Adrien reluctantly looked at the item in his hand.

It was the blue scarf. The scarf he cherished so much, the one his father gave him for his birthday earlier this year. His heart pounded, worrying that it had gotten stained by the cheese, but after a quick inspection the present fortunately appeared unaffected.

Adrien vaguely recalled how the scarf ended up with his socks in the first place. The last time he'd worn it, he took it off after a long day of back to back photoshoots that tired him out to the core. Instead of bothering to place the scarf back on its designated shelf in his closet, he'd tossed it in his open sock drawer and made a mental note to put it back later. The note didn't stick and the scarf never left.

Adrien nostalgically ran his fingers over the soft fabric. It was a token of one of the rare displays of affection his father had given him this past year. Not that Gabriel was all warm and cuddles _before_ Adrien's mother disappeared, but... her absence had certainly been hard on both of them.

The hero's train of thought halted when his fingertips discovered an odd consistency in the yarn, like something had been sewn into it. Adrien blinked and peered down at the seam. It was barely visible, but he could tell something was stitched in the fabric that he had never noticed before. It was a name. A familiar name.

"Marinette?"

Plagg looked up from licking camembert off of one of Adrien's socks. "Huh?"

"Marinette," Adrien repeated, not taking his eyes off the loopy signature. He recognized it as Marinette's handwriting, small and neat and decorated with swirls. And it was hidden in plain sight, just like how she hid her signature on the derby hat.

This was her work.

Adrien sat down on the toilet seat, the scarf hanging limply from his hands. He scratched the side of his head. "Why would my father give me something Marinette made?"

Plagg cocked his head. "You're kidding, right?"

Adrien looked at the kwami. "What?"

Plagg stared at him as if he were stupid. "Nathalie stole Marinette's gift and delivered it to you as your father's. Didn't you already figure that out?"

 _"What?!_ No? I never—" Adrien stood up, frazzled. "Wait, you _knew?"_

"Well, _duh,"_ Plagg said, rolling his eyes. "And I thought you knew, too, but I guess you really are just hopelessly oblivious to all obvious things."

Adrien's eye twitched. "Wh—what made you think I _knew_ that?" (Not that he was terribly surprised that his father had lied to him. _Again.)_

(Not that he appreciated it, either.)

Plagg wrinkled his nose as he recalled the mental image. "Whenever you wear it, you get 'the look' on your face. And your cheeks get all blushy and you bury your nose in it like it's the best thing you've ever worn."

His cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "That's because I thought my father gave it to me! What does that have to do with Marinette?" He frowned. "And what the hell is 'the look?'"

Plagg's expression transitioned from incredulous to genuinely shocked. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"I cannot _believe_ you."

 _"What?!"_

"Marinette!" Plagg yelled. He flew off the counter, hands thrown up in the air. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng! The girl you have a huge major fat crush on! You _always_ act like that around her."

Adrien choked on his own spit. He doubled over and began coughing violently, his hand gripping the side of the counter to keep himself from falling over. When he straightened back up again, his throat burning and his heart pounding, he looked Plagg in the eye and exclaimed, _"What the hell."_

Plagg remained unphased. "Don't blame me just because it takes you twenty years to figure out everything."

"I do _not_ have a crush on Marinette!" Adrien denied, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest. "We are _just friends._ That's all I think of her. As a _friend."_

Plagg mimicked Adrien by crossing his own arms. "Oh yeah? Then why are you trying so hard to deny it?"

"Because it's not true!" he growled, jabbing a finger in Plagg's face. "I love _Ladybug!_ There's no way I can like Marinette too."

The I-think-you're-stupid expression returned to the kwami's face. "I've dealt with the fickle love lives of humans for a long time, kid. I know it's possible to like two people at once."

Adrien shook his head. "Well of course it's _possible,_ but Ladybug is the love of my life. I..." He sighed. "There's no room for anyone else."

"Well, you may think that, but your red cheeks say otherwise." Plagg poked Adrien in the face.

He recoiled away, his blush darkening. "It's hot in here. That doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, and I suppose complimenting her all the time is also just circumstantial?"

"I compliment everyone."

"Not as much as her." He kept going. "What about how you're always spending time with her?"

Adrien huffed. "We do that as _friends."_

"You're always paying attention to her. You're always trying to talk to her. You take every opportunity to help her. _You never stop looking at her."_

"Now you're just lying," Adrien lied.

Plagg saw through his facade. "You always flirt with her as Chat Noir."

Adrien spluttered over his defense. "Wh—no I do—that's _your_ influence."

"Oh, for god's sake, Adrien," Plagg snapped. "Stop denying it! You _know_ I'm right!"

"No you're _not!"_ he cried. "Stop it! I don't like her like that! We're just friends! Just because I think she's smart and brave and pretty and talented and I like her laugh and I like to spend time with her and I want us to be closer _doesn't mean—"_ Adrien stopped.

Plagg just continued to observe patiently, his green eyes staring sharply as the revelation unfolded before him.

"...Oh my god." Adrien slowly sunk to the floor of the bathroom. _"Oh my god."_

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Oh my god," he repeated, looking up at Plagg. His eyes were wide and wild. "I like her. I like-like her."

"Congratulations, you just graduated maternelle."

He ran a hand through his hair. His head was pounding. "I—Marinette? I like Marinette." He was going to be sick. "Oh my god."

Plagg flew down to Adrien's level. "Why the long face? Can't you just accept that I'm smarter than you?"

"I like Marinette," he said. Did he say that already? "Oh my god."

"Okay, this was funny at first but now I'm bored." Plagg poked Adrien in the face again. "Yes, you like Marinette. Now we can move on with our lives."

The epiphany finally sunk in, and Adrien put a disbelieving hand on his forehead. "That's not possible," he said. "I _can't_ like Marinette."

Plagg scowled. "Yes it is? We've been over this already."

"No, it's not. I can't." He dug his fingers into his knees. "I already love Ladybug. I—I'm _devoted_ to her."

The kwami's expression turned sour. "I'm pretty sure devotion is supposed to be mutual."

He shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now! I know how I feel. That can't—this feeling—it isn't just going to go away."

"So what?" Plagg whined, clearly getting fed up. "She doesn't like you back!"

Adrien's breath hitched.

Realizing what he said, Plagg amended his statement in a softened tone. "...Well, at least as of right now, she's not interested. Who knows, maybe you two have a shot in the future, but... but right now she's waiting on someone and that someone isn't you. _Marinette,_ on the other hand—" He stopped himself. "Actually, that's enough surprises for today. You can figure that one out by yourself."

Adrien slumped back against the base of the counter. He hated it when Plagg could make sense. "How did this happen?" he asked, to no one in particular. Maybe to himself. "How did I ever... When did I ever start to stray from Ladybug?"

Rhetorical or not, Plagg reassured him, "That doesn't matter now. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not cheating on LB by liking Marinette too; taking a shot with Marinette doesn't invalidate your love for Ladybug any less. If this doesn't work out—which I seriously doubt will happen," Plagg added under his breath, "—then you can always go back to obsessing over your 'one true love' or whatever."

"I don't obsess over her," Adrien grumbled.

"Uh huh."

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "Okay. I like Marinette."

"Oh god, not this again—"

He cut Plagg off. "So... if I like her, I should... ask her out?"

"That would be the correct first step, yes."

"Okay." Adrien hauled himself to his feet. "Good. Okay. Good. I'll do it. Tomorrow. Good."

"Good," Plagg drawled.

"Good," Adrien agreed, missing the sarcasm. "Yeah. Okay. This is good."

Plagg sighed and ruffled Adrien's bangs. "I'm proud of you, kid," he said, his voice encouraging for once, rather than cynical. "I know this is hard for you to admit, so don't chicken out of it."

"I won't," Adrien promised. He scratched the back of Plagg's ear. "Thanks loser."

Plagg rolled his eyes, but he quirked his lip. "Don't thank me yet. You still have to finish your project."

"...Oh no."

* * *

 ** _Ten Hours Later_**

"Dude, are you okay?"

Adrien jerked up from the bench in the courtyard, where he'd been lying in the fetal position ever since lunch began. He had been on the brink of falling asleep for what would've been the billionth time that day. Finishing the physics project had taken him the remainder of the night, and recently Adrien's average number of hours of sleep per night had been teetering dangerously low. He didn't think he'd ever been so desperate for a nap in his entire life.

Nino stared down at Adrien with an eyebrow cocked, one hand laid on the headphones around his neck. Adrien could hear the faint sound of rock music coming from them. He repeated, "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Adrien yawned. He rubbed his eyes. "Jus' tired."

"Aren't we all." Nino stuck out a hand to help him up. "C'mon. Let's go to the library. You can sleep on my lap."

Nino led a drowsy Adrien to the back of the library, where he took a brief nap on the couch with his head, as promised, in Nino's lap. The brief moment of rest didn't completely satiate his desire to sleep, but it did help smooth the edges of his headache. Nino woke him up fifteen minutes before lunch ended so they could grab some food, preferably something caffeinated. Or drugged.

(He was _so. tired.)_

They were on their way to the exit, Adrien shuffling along like a senior citizen, when Nino suddenly snagged Adrien's arm to get him to stop walking. Adrien looked back and saw him staring bright-eyed at Alya and Marinette, who were sitting by themselves at a table with a bag of croissants. "Did someone say food?" Nino asked.

Alya quickly shoved a croissant in her mouth. "Noo..."

Nino leaned over her and tried to snatch the bag of goods from her hands. "Gimme!"

Alya hissed and slapped his hand away.

Adrien wasn't paying attention to Nino and Alya's bickering, but his head didn't feel so fuzzy anymore. He was staring down at Marinette, who seemed to also be tuning out their friends' mindless fighting, and suddenly all traces of drowsiness had evaporated from his brain.

Having a crush on someone and being _fully aware_ of having a crush on someone were two terribly different things. Awareness made him notice the curve of her face and the blue of her eyes and the delicate texture of her hair and the freckles on her skin and...

He needed to tell her.

He promised Plagg he would tell her. He couldn't chicken out of this. He had to do it. Now.

Adrien decided that he was not going to be afraid. He would walk into this with his head up and a smile on his face and he was just going to tell her that he knew about the scarf, knew about his crush, and knew that he really wanted to be with her. And he would tell her that as much as he'd had this figured out, he still had no idea what he was doing.

 _'But all I want is you.'_

Adrien wrung out his hands. Cleared his throat. Took a deep breath.

"Marinette."

* * *

 **...**

 **Present**

 **...**

Ladybug peeked back around the tree. The akuma was still simply sitting on the grass, her legs crossed and her eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to her hair whipping around her head and her clothes spinning and the tornado of insects destroying the property surrounding her. She appeared to be meditating, but why she was doing so, he wasn't sure. In fact, he didn't even know why she was here—by this hour, the museum was closed. Not that it wouldn't have already been evacuated by now.

A few hours earlier, when he was facing off with her as Chat Noir, he barely had a chance. He had only fought with her for twenty minutes, but those few minutes had been degrading and... horrifying. It was short-lived, but the encounter gave him more than a taste of her full potential, seeing as she didn't hesitate or hold back in the slightest.

Her face was blank, but her wrath was malicious. She never stopped firing ladybugs at him, never stopped chasing his tail, never stopped pushing him into corners that he miraculously escaped from. It was like she was spellbound, like she had transformed into an indestructible war machine that was programmed to annihilate him, and if he hadn't finally run off when he did, he was certain she would've gone to any extent to reach her goal. She'd had the complete upper hand, and she knew it. He might have felt humiliated if it wasn't so unsettling.

She wasn't the Ladybug he knew. She wasn't the _Marinette_ he knew. She... she was... he didn't even know her akuma name.

He didn't know her at all.

The sound of a trashcan crashing against Ladybug's hiding tree abruptly dragged him back into reality. Mentally scrambling to recollect himself, he bit his lip and absently smoothed his hand over the blue scarf.

 **...**

It was time to end this.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **I didn't update for like four months whoops.**

 **This chapter wasn't as action-packed as I'd originally planned... but there's been some subtle foreshadowing leading up to this. Who caught it?**

 **The next few chapters are going to be wrapping up the story, so expect BIG THINGS.**

 ****cross-posted on ao3**

 ****tumblr: chatnono**


	11. Scream

**Fuck.**

 **Chapter 11: Scream**

* * *

'Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq...'

 _As Marinette's arch nemesis fed off of her anger and sadness to control her body, she discovered that there was very little she could do to manage this situation—if she was really able to manage anything at all._

'...Six, sept, huit, neuf, dix...'

 _Deep inside her, there was still a small spark of... whoever she used to be. There was a small fraction of her mind that was still self aware. It should have been impossible, really, but Marinette guessed that she'd always been a stubborn girl. It was one of her worst faults; Ladybug never quite knew when to give up, did she?_

 _Well, now would be a great time. Letting go of reality and embracing akumatization sure would save her from a lot of suffering. And she was really tired of that._

 _Besides, she wasn't even Ladybug anymore. That happy, friendly, hopeful hero she once was felt so far out of reach. That girl was lost forever now, lost in the sea of darkness._

 _There was nothing left to lose. Everyone she could possibly let down was already let down. Nobody needed her, nobody really ever had._

 _But, for some reason, the ember glowed, and she was forced to beat on._

'...Neuf, huit, sept...'

 _In her captivity, Marinette was constantly assaulted by images of what she—no, the_ akuma _—was doing to Paris. She was only catching flashes and glimpses, blurred and hazy, like she was looking through the lens of a camera that was shaking too fast. She couldn't make out faces, places, or voices, but she hated every second of it._

blood bugs death screams bugs rain crack black screams bugs bugs—

'...Six, cinq, quatre...'

 _She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't cry. And she couldn't do a fucking thing to fix this._

'...Trois... deux...'

 _So she counted._

'...Un, deux, trois...'

 _Marinette knew she was stuck. She had relinquished complete control of her body to Hawk Moth, and there was nothing she could do, or anyone could do, to get it back. Counting was the only way she could pull her mind away from Hawk Moth's voice and the akuma's influence. She could only try to ignore the terrible things Hawk Moth was doing with her akumatized powers, try to ignore the fact that he was tearing down her city with her own two hands._

 _She just wanted it to stop stop_ stop.

'...Quatre, cinq...'

 _Was this all she was ever going to be? A monster? A destroyer? She liked it better when she was dead._

'...Six, sept...'

 _She was hopeless. Powerless._ Done _._

'...Huit, neuf...'

 _She was Disenchanted, now._

'...Dix—'

There's a red and black spotted suit emerging from the foliage—

 _Marinette's heart skipped a beat._

 _The image was so fleeting that she thought she imagined it. Afterall, she wasn't in a very reliable state of mind. She could be so far gone that her brain was hallucinating the things she hoped for the most._

 _But then it reappeared._

Ladybug rushing towards her, yo-yo spinning to deflect ladybugs, feet splashing up mud as she runs—

 _No, that was_ real _. It had to be._

 _For a second, Marinette was actually happy. She never thought she'd see that suit again. That must mean that Alya got her miraculous, and that Chat must be around, too, and maybe something could finally be done to stop this._

 _But then she remembered—this wasn't their fight. They weren't supposed to be here. This wasn't anybody's fight but her own. She couldn't risk losing them, not like this._

 _And then she realized._

Soaked blond hair, narrowed green eyes, teeth grit in anger or fear or both—

 _This was not Alya._

 _It was a boy. A very familiar boy._

He bursts through the swarm, yo-yo swinging, and slows to a stop right across from her. She shoots ladybugs at him, but instead of protecting himself, he drops his arms limply to his sides, opening himself up as a target. His yo-yo slips through his fingers and falls to the mud, surrendering himself to the akuma's will. The bugs keep flying, circling him like vultures, flocking like crows, biting at any exposed skin they can reach, but his eyes no longer betray fear—

 _He was trusting her._

 _What a stupid, stupid thing to do._

 _Marinette tried to scream, tried to tell him to get away before she hurt him or killed him or worse, but she couldn't. She tried to control her hands, tried to make sure they wouldn't blast him, but she couldn't. She tried to run, but there she stayed._

Her hand stretches out just centimeters from his face, glowing purple in warning of the swarm to come. But he's just standing there, blood on his face, tears in his eyes, unmoving, unflinching, unafraid—

And he smiles, wide and happy, bright and dazzling, as if they weren't standing on a battlefield, in the thick of a storm, the weight of the whole world sitting right on their shoulders. As if they weren't fighting for everything and about to lose it all.

Then, he speaks:

"Marinette, it's me. It's Chat Noir. Do you remember me?"

 _His voice was hoarse, as if he had been shouting, or crying, or both, and quiet, as if he was telling a secret just for her ears. But it was undoubtedly, wholeheartedly her partner's voice. Marinette felt chills crawl up her spine._

When the akuma doesn't say anything, Chat steps closer to her, even though her hand remains poised in place. "I know you're in there. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

 _"No,"_ the akuma whispers venomously.

 _It was the first time the akuma had ever spoken. The word sounded so toxic and cruel, and Marinette hated that it was through her own voice, her own lips._

 _"Marinette isn't here,"_ the akuma continues, and she grins darkly, expressing any emotion on her face for the first time. _"It's just Disenchanted, now."_

'No, I'm here,' _Marinette thought desperately in response, even though Chat couldn't hear her, and Disenchanted was ignoring her. She felt her heart ache in her chest._ 'But _you_ shouldn't be.'

Chat Noir is visibly shaken by the akuma's words, but he doesn't let the revelation set him back. He doesn't acknowledge that the akuma had spoken at all; he doesn't give her the satisfaction.

"I know you don't want this," he says, speaking directly to Marinette, only Marinette. Ever so slightly, his voice is shaking. "I know you would never have done any of this on purpose. Nobody blames you for anything, Marinette. They know this isn't you, this isn't _Ladybug."_

 _"You don't know me,"_ Disenchanted seethes. _"You don't get to say what I would or wouldn't do, what I want or don't want—!"_

"Yes, I do," Chat says determinedly. He steps even closer, and her hand never strays. His words are not accusatory, but gentle, understanding. "This isn't what you want, is it?"

In favor of replying, she cries, _"Go away!"_ , and the blast shoots from her hand.

Chat looks startled, as if he hadn't expected her to actually attack him. He's forced to drop to the ground and tumble away before his face is skinned off. He lifts his head off the grass, revealing to have mud in his hair and blood gushing from his left nostril. The bugs swerve after him, so he has to grab his yo-yo off the ground to shield himself again.

 _"Get the miraculouses," Hawk Moth echoed in her mind. "Nobody will ever be able to stop us!"_

'Un deux trois quatre—'

"I know you're scared!" Chat cries, his voice barely audible over the buzzing. He's still attempting to get through to her. She shoots the bugs after him, but he leaps out of the way again. Still, too focused on not dying, he can't finish what he has to say.

It turns out even a super akuma has its limits. Having summoned so many ladybugs throughout the day, it's getting hard to control them all at one time. Some of them are starting to fall to ground, unable to function. Little by little, the hoard grows smaller and smaller.

Frustrated, and starting to grow alarmed, Disenchanted frantically shoots the bugs after Chat as fast and violently as she can, hoping they can catch up to him. He can only use his shield and reflexes to protect himself, but with the amount of bugs chasing him significantly lowering, he manages to outskill them.

Sooner than expected, the ladybugs run out of juice. The last of them peter off and drop to the ground. Disenchanted screams and snaps her arm up, attempting to summon ladybugs to do her dirty work, but nothing comes out.

 _"Don't let him escape!" Hawk Moth cried, clearly not expecting this either. "Go after him!"_

The akuma gets in a threatening stance, but Chat drops his arms, once again surrendering. Disenchanted growls in frustration. "Fight me, you coward!"

"I don't want to fight you," Chat says, his voice out of breath, but gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Disenchanted lets out a hollow chuckle. _"Tough luck."_ And she charges.

The akuma rams straight into Chat, causing him to fly off his feet and slam into a tree. He groans and blinks his eyes open blearily, but he doesn't try to get up. Disenchanted lifts him up by the front of his suit and throws him back against the tree. She hears a loud crack, although it's unclear if it was from him or the tree. He doesn't make a sound.

'Cinq six sept huit neuf—'

She's about to grab him again and throw him back against the tree, when she sees Chat look her in the eyes. He's clearly in pain, but instead of having accepted his fate, he looks hopeful. Hopeful that she'll stop, hopeful that he'll break through to her, hopeful that there's still a chance, that there was ever one to begin with.

 _So fucking stupid._

The akuma steps forward, about to lift him up again. But his gaze is unwavering, and the akuma finds herself inexplicably frozen. Hawk Moth is yelling at her to move, move, but she's trapped in those green eyes, in Marinette's pain and love for her partner, and—she's frozen.

Seeing that she's faltering, Chat takes this as the opportunity to speak. "Marinette, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never going to leave your side, not now, not ever. You, _only_ you, are my partner, and nothing will ever change that. I promise, we're going to get through this." He stretches out his hand to her. "Together."

 _There was a tedious relief following Chat's soothing words. The chains on her arms and legs slowly loosened up, and the weight on her body began to lift. She could see light begin to fracture through the dark sea, and muffled sounds started to beat against her ear drums. Warmth seeped under her skin, air trickled into her lungs. The world was starting to form shape around her once again._

 _"He's lying to you," Hawk Moth lied to her. "You know nobody cares about you anymore. You ruined their lives! You'll never be redeemed! You want revenge, justice!"_

'No, I don't, I don't,' _she thought despairingly. But a trickle of doubt was all Hawk Moth needed to push her back under; the chains tightened as quickly as they'd loosened, and her senses completely faded to nothingness, emptiness. She tried in vain to search for another glimpse of Chat, just a smile or a word or a breath, but all she got was silence. Everything had gone back to cold and dark and lonely and utterly terrifying._

 _"See? Don't try to fight me. You'll never win."_

'Stop it stop it stop it stop it—'

 **...**

"Stop it!" she yelled, dropping Chat from her hold. He stumbled backwards against the tree, and Marinette grasped her head in her hands, as if trying to squeeze Hawk Moth's presence from her brain.

And then she realized.

Disenchanted wasn't in control.

 **...**

Marinette looked down. She was standing in a crater of dirt, covered in mud and grass and adorned in a black and white knock off ladybug costume. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her shoes and socks and was now standing barefoot in the mud. Her hair was loose and plastered to her neck, and her hands were tingling with phantom power, as if they still believed she could shoot man-eating insects at her command. Oddly enough, she couldn't feel any pain anywhere, even though she saw blood and cuts and bruising. She didn't know what to think about that. (Or, rather, she didn't want to.)

Around her, however, was total chaos.

Trees were uprooted from the ground, some thrown pretty far from where they'd grown. Most of the lawn's grass had been pulled from the ground and tossed around. The museum roof was caved in, and the front of the building was trashed. Windows were broken and statues were severely dismembered. It looked as if a tornado had passed through.

If she'd done this much damage to one area, she couldn't imagine what she'd done to innocent civilians.

Marinette was shaking. She took a step backwards, staring in horror at the destruction. Realizing something was different, Chat slowly ascended to his feet. He approached her timidly. "...Marinette?"

 _"NO! NO! LISTEN!" Hawk Moth roared._

An excruciating wave of pain crashed through her head as she resisted his temptation. Marinette cried out and clutched her head, and tears leaked from her eyes. "No... no... _please_..."

Chat seemed to have caught on to what was happening. He stumbled forward and reached out for her. "Fight him, Marinette!" he encouraged. "You can do it, I know you can!"

She shook her head, which only made the pain worse. "I can't," she sobbed.

"You're stronger than you think," he said. "I meant every word I said, Mari—"

"Stop," she snapped, tears leaking down her face. She stepped back from him and turned her back to him. "You can't be here! You can't around me! I don't—I don't know how long I can hold him off." When he didn't move, she spelled it out for him. " _Go away_ Chat!"

Chat slowly stepped forward, his tone soft. "My Lady—"

"Don't call me that!" She spun around to face him again, her teary red eyes boring into him. "I'm not yours! I'm not _anyone's!_ Don't you understand?" Her voice and body and everything was shaking. "I can't be around here anymore. I'm a danger to everybody. Look what I'm capable of. I'm too weak to be a hero. I—" She clenched her eyes shut, squeezing out tears. "I _failed_.

"I can't go back," her voice cracked. She turned her back to him, inching further away. "I can't face my family or my friends or—or anybody. I've hurt them all and I'll only hurt them more so just—get away from me. _Please_."

She couldn't see his face, but Chat remained silent for a long time. Marinette expected herself to feel regret, because she knew that Chat didn't deserve her anger. She could never be angry at him, not ever, not really.

But instead, she just felt empty.

Hawk Moth was still an agonizing force at the edge of her mind, ready at any second to eclipse her consciousness and turn her back into a murder machine. She could hear his voice in her ear, could feel his presence looming over her, coaxing her to submit herself back to his power. _"Come with me. Give in. Give in. Give in."_

She was shaking and sweating and sobbing with the effort to ward him off, but slowly but surely, she could feel herself starting to slip under.

But before she could slip too far, Chat stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Too numb and scared to fight him off, she allowed him to turn her body to face him. Her ex-partner's eyes were filled with sadness, but he still managed to tug his mouth into a reassuring smile. "Hey, hey, it's okay, breathe, _breathe_."

 _'Undeuxtroisquatre—DAMN IT—'_

"I can't," she moaned, and she hated how pitiful she sounded.

Seeing that Marinette was on the brink of going under again, Chat let go of her shoulder. He reached a gloved hand into one of his pockets, and pulled out a folded piece of knitted blue fabric.

When Chat unraveled it, recognition jarred her, like a ton of bricks landing on her head. Her sobbing squeaked to a halt.

He didn't meet her eyes. "I tried to tell you, back at school. Before everything fell apart." He flipped over the scarf and pointed to her signature with a trembling finger. "I found your name stitched along the seam."

Marinette couldn't remember how to breathe. Pain stabbed her mind over and over.

Chat cleared his throat before he continued. "I felt guilty, and embarrassed, that it took me so long to figure it out, and that you never got the thanks you deserved. But I... was also confused," he wrapped his fingers around the scarf, "because, how could someone possibly be so—so thoughtful and selfless that she would go through _so much effort_ to make me happy, knowing she would get absolutely nothing in return?"

Chat clenched the scarf in his fists, and he looked at her, his eyes welling up. "And then suddenly, it wasn't just the scarf. I thought about everything you've done for our class, for your friends—and, now, Paris. And I... I was— _am_ —so angry at myself, because I'd always known you were brave, and humble, and beautiful, and kind, but I'd never seen how _extraordinary_ you were. And—just—how could I have been so _blind?_ "

Marinette was deathly quiet. At this point, she had figured out what what the implications of Chat's speech were, and if she thought she was stunned before, this was a _whole new_ kind of shock.

Chat must have felt uncomfortable under her disbelieving stare, but his eyes didn't stray from hers for even a second. He let out a shuddering breath. "So, what I wanted to say was, thank you, Marinette. Thank you for opening my eyes."

And then, there was a flash of pink light, and Chat wasn't in Ladybug's suit anymore. Adrien stood in his place, wearing the same watery smile and holding the same blue scarf.

And Marinette burst into tears.

His smile started to fall. "Oh, Marinette..." he started.

Marinette _launched_ herself onto Adrien, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. Adrien stumbled slightly, but it didn't take long for him to regain his balance and wrap his arms around her as well.

He held her close and buried his face in her hair, her body trembling in his hold as she sobbed into his neck. It was the tightest, warmest hug she'd ever received, and she never wanted him to let her go. She didn't think he could if he tried.

 _'It's Adrien. My Adrien. My beautiful Adrien.'_

She didn't know how long they stood there, relishing the feeling of being able to hold each other, but eventually her crying subsided enough for her to be able to regain her composure.

"Adrien..." she whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear it. She hiccuped. "Wh-What do we do now?"

Reluctantly, he pulled her back from his chest so he could look her in the eyes. "Give me the akumatized object. I'll free the akuma."

Marinette nodded shakily. She patted her sides until she found her purse, wrapped around her waist like her yo-yo. She was about to pull it off, but the moment she touched it, her brain was overwhelmed with white hot agony.

She screamed. Adrien yelled her name, but the world was muffled again, and everything was gone, gone, gone.

 **...**

 _The water engulfed her, cold and icy, deep and unforgiving—_

Adrien is enveloped in pink light, transforming back into Ladybug—

 _The shackles wrapped around her arms, legs, waist, neck—_

Disenchanted wakes with a howl and summons her ladybugs, bigger and badder and more powerful than ever—

 _Marinette couldn't hear or see or breathe and she was drowning, drowning, drowning, down, down, down—_

—And Adrien snaps the purse off her waist, and Disenchanted lets out a dying scream.

She falls to her knees, defeated.

 _It happened like clockwork. Marinette's shackles snapped and crumbled away. Her skin prickled and the water around her glowed with warm energy. Her ears rung and her eyes stung and Hawk Moth was screaming at her, screaming, "No, no, NO!"_

 _She could feel him trying to drag her back, and he was strong, powerful, convincing, and she was still broken, scared, vulnerable. But she had faith, and she had love, and she had Adrien's hand, reaching out for her._

'Undeuxtroisquatrecinqsixsepthuitneuf—'

 **...**

—And then there was light.

 **...**

Marinette gasped for air, as if she were a fetus breathing outside the womb for the first time. Adrien grabbed her by her shoulders to keep her upright. She blearily looked up to see Adrien staring at her, his green eyes opened wide.

The lawn was repaired. The ditch was gone. The trees were upright. The building was good as new. She was dressed back in her dirty clothes. And the world was quiet.

"You did it," she whispered.

Adrien laughed, tears in his eyes. "No, you did."

Marinette smiled for the first time in far too long.

But then her eyelids drooped, and suddenly she felt extremely lightheaded. She struggled to remain standing, but after a few seconds she fell to her knees, mud spraying her face. She coughed into the dirt, causing blood to drip from her lips onto the grass. Before she could contemplate how all her injuries were catching up to her, she collapsed against the ground, her body shuddering violently. All she felt was pain, burning, scorching, tearing her apart—

"Marinette!" Adrien cried, dropping to his knees beside her. He tugged the earrings out of his ears and slipped the ring on his finger.

"Plagg, claws out!"

Marinette watched Adrien transform into Chat Noir. Even in her state of delirious pain, she marvelled at how both loves of her life were the same boy.

(Maybe this could work out, huh?)

Chat lifted Marinette into his arms. His eyes were wide with fear, but his voice was reassuring as always. "We're going to get you to the hospital, okay?"

She was too weak to reply.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay. I got you."

Marinette closed her eyes.

 _"I love you."_

 **...**

The world faded away again.

But this time, she would not be afraid.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **11/15 chapters done whoot**

 **uhhhh it's been a whole year since my last update and I'm A Bad Person.**

 **i'm sorry my friends, i swear i'll finish this fic or perish trying.**

 **also: it's been like two years since i started this fic (wtffff) so i'm gonna go back and edit the hell out of previous chapters. i'll leave a note at the top of each chap i update.**

 **thanks, as always, for being awesome :D**


	12. Crash

_**Chapter 12: Crash**_

* * *

The icy wind whipped around Chat's face as he sprinted down the street. His feet hit the wet ground at a rhythmic pace, thumping in time with the erratic beat of his heart. The setting sun was blinding his eyes, but his muscles were pumping him towards the hospital on autopilot. Marinette was breathing shallowly in his arms, broken and tired and running out of time.

Chat still had several blocks until he reached the nearest hospital, whereas he could've already arrived by now by staff. But he didn't want to risk hurting Marinette anymore by tossing her around in the air, and he didn't have the time (or, frankly, patience) to wait for an ambulance. So he pressed his lips to her cheek, clutched her tight, and he _ran_.

The only thing keeping him going right now was adrenaline, and maybe the power of love, or something. He shouldn't be able to run so fast, not after a day like this.

But he had to keep going.

Chat couldn't lose her. He _wouldn't_ lose her. Not after everything he did to get her back.

Around him, in the aftermath of Ladybug's healing magic, Paris was slowly coming back to life. Lights burst on and windows cracked open. Doors unlocked and citizens slowly started to filter onto the streets, emerging from their shelters like bears out of hibernation. He narrowly avoided ramming into a few unsuspecting pedestrians, but he didn't have the energy to apologize beyond barking out an insincere "sorry" or "my bad."

But he had to keep going.

He was halfway there. He was so close. He was _so close..._

...But...

His body began to fall out of his control.

His legs were giving up on him. Each step was slower and weightier than the last. Pain seized his muscles at an intensity he was unable to ignore. His cognition grew clouded and his chest ached and every gasp of raw air was more painful than the last. Plagg struggled to keep him going, tried his hardest to transfer as much strength as he could. But there was only so much he could do, and the lights on his ring started to flicker out.

 _'C'mon, c'mon, please,_ please...'

But, bit by bit, the world was starting to fade around him.

He was done.

But he _couldn't..._ He had to keep...

He had...

he...

 **...**

The last thing Chat saw before he blacked out was a blast of green light.

* * *

 **...**

Nino woke up gasping for breath.

He sat up quickly and put his hands on his chest, as if to keep his heart from toppling onto the floor. His skin was slick with sweat, causing his shirt to stick uncomfortably to his back, and everything felt hot and suffocated.

 _'What the hell is going on?'_

He tried to control his breathing, but after a few seconds it only got worse. Nino's head was spinning so fast that he couldn't remember what had made him so anxious in the first place. He couldn't even see because his vision was all blurry, which only served to freak him out more—until he realized he'd only misplaced his glasses.

Nino fumbled his hands over the ground until his fingers hit the familiar texture of glasses lens. He stuck them over his eyes and exhaled slowly as he finally drank in his surroundings. Once his vision adjusted, it only took him a second to recognize the familiar wallpaper of Alya's living room.

 _'...Wait, what?'_

The apartment was completely silent, and unless everyone was sleeping in the middle of the day, that probably meant no one was home. But that didn't explain why he had been laying on the floor, passed out for god knows how long. He carefully ran his hands over his head and face, but he couldn't find any injury to explain why he'd been unconscious.

And then, out of nowhere, it all came crashing back. In _excruciatingly vivid_ detail.

Running—Hiding—Fighting—Losing—

 _Dying._

Nino willed himself to remain calm; there was no need to panic. He was here, whole, alive. He was safe. Which meant that the heroes saved the day again. They _won_. Everything was gonna be okay, right?

So why did he have so much trouble believing it?

After a pause, Nino shook his head, and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He'd finally stopped shaking so hard and his head wasn't spinning quite so fast, but he still felt a little uneasy. Or a lot uneasy.

Maybe if he saw all his friends in one place, alive and whole and safe as well, it wouldn't quite feel like someone was reaching into his chest and squeezing the life out of him.

By the couch, Nino saw his favorite red hat laying on the floor. He walked over and picked it up, absentmindedly turning it over in his hands. It looked as he remembered it, simple and clean and only a little faded, because he was rarely outside enough for the sun to bleach its color. He even saw the tiny black line where his cousin nicked him with a Sharpie on accident. Nino placed it on his head, but instead of feeling comforted, as his cap usually made him, he only felt even more detached. Because the hat was the same, but he was not.

Everything was different now.

Normally after an akuma attack where he'd been pulverized or hypnotized or what-have-you, Nino could easily find someone he knew, or was at least in the company of people in a similar situation. At least there was somebody there to tether him to reality, to shove away the scared feelings and answer the question of 'well, what now?' But now, he was all alone.

Nino walked over to the couch and sat down numbly, not quite sure what else he could do. He drummed his fingers on his knees impatiently, before he decided to pull his phone out of his pocket and turn it on. He opened up his contacts, planning to call his mom so she could pick him up (and, let's be honest, he could really use a good hug from his mom right about now), but then his eyes fell on Adrien Agreste's contact at the top of the list.

And, well, shit. Nino and Alya never did get in contact with him, did they?

Oh god. Just because the city was back to normal didn't mean Hawk Moth didn't have his own son tied up in his secret lair, doing god-knows-what to him. That sick bastard was a _monster!_

Determined, and maybe a little bit hysterical, Nino charged towards the door, prepared to run to the Agreste mansion, save his best friend, and punch Gabriel "Human Trash Bag" Agreste right where the sun doesn't shine—

But before he could, Alya threw the door open from the outside.

For a second, the two of them stood face-to-face in silence. Alya blinked wide-eyed at Nino, as if she hadn't expected to ever see him again. And maybe, he thought resentfully, she did not.

He sure never thought he'd see her again, either.

Nino doesn't know which one of them reached for the other first, but after the second of initial shock, Nino and Alya were hugging each other for dear life.

"Oh my god, Nino, you're here," Alya whispered, pressing her cheek against his as she held him. He felt her chest shudder in silent, disbelieving laughs. "You're here, you're okay… Oh, god..."

Nino forced himself to pull away from Alya, just enough to look her in the eyes and blurt out, "What happened to you? Did you get away, or—" Nino cut himself off, not daring to finish his thought.

It wouldn't change the past, but he pleaded to anything that would listen—the moon, the stars, the universe—that she didn't end up like him. He prayed, _begged_ , that she did not share his fate.

But the universe was unfair, and the universe was unkind, and the disturbed look passing over Alya's face was enough to confirm his worst nightmare.

Unashamed to let go, or perhaps too engrieved to resist it, Alya burst into tears. She buried her face into his shoulder, and he could feel his shirt dampening from her sobs, but he didn't care. _God_ , he didn't care.

"Fuck, Nino," she cried, congested and hoarse and cracking at the edges. "Fucking _shit_ , Nino, I watched you _die_. I heard it all and saw it all and—I couldn't do a fucking thing for Marinette and then _you_ —just— _fuck!"_

If Nino hadn't been on the edge of tears before, Alya's distraught babbling shoved him right over it. He buried his face in her hair and cried, sobbed, inhaled her mango shampoo and flowery detergent and the blood, sweat, and tears she had shed throughout this whole damn mess. He was consumed by anger for Hawk Moth and everything he did, and anger for the universe that had let him get this far. But he was also consumed with gratitude, gratitude for life and health and safety and the girl in his arms.

Nino couldn't move, speak, or do anything other than cry and hold her and kiss her head over and over and over again. His glasses fell crooked and the rim of his hat pushed against her, gradually levering off his head until it toppled to the carpet. Alya was the first one to pull away, but she was still gripping him by the shoulders fiercely. Her eyes were still wet, and her voice was still worn, but her message didn't lose its bite. "Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear me? I will never fucking forgive you. You can't do that. _You can't leave me."_

"I won't," Nino promised, blinking the tears out of his eyes and righting his glasses. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't leave me," she repeated, desperate and lost and everything he hated. "I lost Marinette and Adrien and I can't—" A sob breaks her sentence, and he placed a tender hand on the back of her head, which only served to make her cry harder. "I _can't_ lose you, Nino."

Nino leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Alya's. He shook his head, crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so sorry—"

And then Alya grabbed Nino by the cheeks and crashed their lips together. And then they were kissing, and crying, and hugging, and falling in love all over again.

(And, unspokenly:

Committing themselves to each other for as long as fate would allow.)

* * *

The second Alya and Nino stepped outside, the street lamps down the block flickered to life. Warm-colored bulbs reflected across the glossy sidewalks, casting watery stars across the gray pavement. The air was sweet with petrichor, crisp in the aftermath of the storm. Incandescently, the blood orange sun was dipping behind the skyline, illuminating the beyond with miles of pink and red and gold. Any other night, it would have been perfect. _Magical_ , even.

But not tonight.

Alya squeezed Nino's hand in a death grip, as if she expected him to vanish at any second. With her free hand, Alya held her phone to her ear as she talked with her mother. Nino could hear Alya's voice shaking, but she seemed determined to avoid another breakdown. As they walked down the sidewalk, Alya briefly recounted everything that happened—from Tikki, to Chat Noir, to the attack... to where they were now. Through it all, Nino just ran his thumb over her knuckles, reassuring her of his devoted presence at her side, of his permanence in her life and in this moment.

At the end of the phone call, Alya seemed a little bit lighter. Just a little. "Uh huh. Okay... Call me if you hear anything. I'll see you tonight... I love you too."

Alya pressed 'end call' and slipped her phone into her pocket. She turned her head to Nino, slipping a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and delivered him a small, but warm smile. As Nino returned it, he noted that her eyes were still red, but her tears had dried, and he considered that to be a win.

They weren't walking with any particular destination in mind. They just needed an escape from everything that happened, from that building that was now haunted with destruction and terror. A moment to breathe and process and decide how they were going to go forward with... everything.

Because everything was different now, right?

"You didn't tell her about Gabriel," Nino said after a while.

"Didn't know how," Alya admitted. "I didn't want to dump one more... surprise, I guess." She paused. "But besides, it doesn't really matter;" and her voice grew bitter: "everyone will know soon enough."

She was right. There was no way news this big could be kept under wraps, not when famed fashion designer Gabriel Agreste turned out to be the terroristic supervillain Hawk Moth. Not when the richest man in France was also the Most Wanted.

(He wondered if Chat Noir had reported it to the police yet.)

Nino was still lost in his thoughts as Alya turned the street corner. However, when she saw what was on the other side, she abruptly jerked to a stop, and Nino followed her example. _"Woah,_ what the hell?"

Nino quickly rounded the corner to see what was wrong. Down the road, there was a loud crowd of people lined up behind police tape. He couldn't see what was attracting so much attention, but he saw several police cars and ambulances and even a news truck. People were pointing and murmuring and snapping pictures and talking on the phone.

The words "Ladybug" and "Chat Noir" were repeatedly drifting from the crowd.

"Do you think...?" Alya whispered.

Nino didn't say anything. He tugged Alya down the sidewalk, first speed walking, and when Alya's body caught up with her brain, she started dragging him instead; and then they were running, skidding to a stop and shoving themselves through the crowd because they had to see, they had to _know_ —

And when they reached the tape, they saw Marinette's limp body being lifted onto a stretcher.

Nino's chest felt like it had caved in on itself. As much as he'd been hoping that he—they— _anybody_ —would find her, he had never thought to prepare himself to witness the state she was in. He could barely have imagined it, really. One of his closest, kindest, _strongest_ friends, someone he admired not only as a hero, but as a human being, beaten to stillness?

He'd known Marinette had fragile parts, but so did any normal human, and Marinette was so much bigger and better than any normal human. But here she was, shattered like glass.

He felt sick.

Alya let out a strangled sound and covered her mouth with her hands. Nino quickly wrapped an arm around her to keep her from keeling over, or passing out, or whatever came first. He was so occupied with trying to keep Alya, and himself, from falling into panic, that he almost didn't notice the second body getting picked up.

Almost.

He only caught one glance of a pale, bloody, suffering boy before the paramedics blocked his view. But in one glance, he also saw sunny blond hair and the face of a boy he had seen on every billboard in Paris. The face of a boy that had shown him so much love and kindness and taught him to let people in, because not everybody was cruel and misunderstanding. The face of his best friend. His brother. His _family._

 _"Adrien?"_

Alya's teary eyes turned to Nino, but his gaze never left the second ambulance. He caught a second glance of the boy as the paramedics lifted him into the vehicle, and sure enough, Adrien was completely unconscious on the stretcher, mouth slightly agape and blood trickling from his hairline.

Nino thought he was going to throw up.

Before, he had only been speculating that Hawk Moth had hurt Adrien. But seeing the damage with his own two eyes was traumatic, at best. Having one dear friend in peril was already too much to handle, but now he had two, and Nino had passed his emotional-stress limit a long time ago. His throat was closing up and his eyes were burning and he was so furious and anguished and _scared_ , and he didn't think he had enough room in his head to fit all these feelings, didn't have enough strength to keep himself together—

When Alya noticed Adrien, her mouth dropped open. Her eyes darted between Nino and Adrien disbelievingly, and she opened her mouth to speak, "Nino—"

—But was cut off by a shout in the distance: "Alya! Nino!"

The two in question looked towards the direction of the voice. Nino was the first one to spot Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng by the paramedics, looking frantic and frightened and everything inbetween. Marinette's mother was waving for them to come to her, so Alya and Nino glanced at each other before ducking under the tape.

Sabine held out her arms and embraced Alya and Nino in a rush. "Oh, I'm so glad you two are okay."

"Don't worry about us," Alya sniffled. Her eyes were spilling tears once again, but she ferociously brushed them away, determined to seem collected in the face of chaos. In the face of those who may be suffering more. "How's Marinette?"

"Hanging on," Tom replied, his words short but heavy, his voice bridging the thin line between hope and defeat. His wife squeezed his arm in consolation, and the grief shared between them was like fog, thick and bold and consuming all in its path.

The last of Marinette's paramedics disappear within the ambulance, and Sabine stepped back to follow. There was only one guest allowed in an ambulance at a time, and it seemed that the parents had already discussed who would ride along. She pressed a loving kiss to her husband's jaw. "I'll see you there, my love."

Tom gave her one last hurried kiss. "Tell her I love her," he whispered.

"I will."

Sabine hurried into the ambulance, and the doors slammed shut. The sirens blasted on, and the truck sped off around the corner, out of sight. Tom let out a shaky breath, and Nino and Alya squeezed his hands in solidarity, a confirmation of their support.

In the wake of Marinette's departure, Nino had forgotten completely of Adrien. When he heard loud rattling as the second stretcher was locked into his ambulance, Nino's anxiety skyrocketed back to its previous intensity, as he remembered how his best friend was found lying half-alive (or more like _almost-not-alive)_ on the concrete.

"Mr. Dupain," he said, and when the man looked towards him, he asked, "What happened to Adrien?"

Marinette's father furrowed his brow in confusion. "You don't know?"

The tightness in his voice caused Nino's heart to plummet into his stomach. "Know _what?"_ he asked, impending panic apparent in his tone.

Tom curled his lips and glanced down between his daughter's friends, seeming unsure of how he should deliver the news. It seemed like he was carefully studying a mental map, trying to navigate the safest route of disclosure with the least amount of collateral damage.

Finally, he met Nino's eyes, and said, "Chat Noir passed out while carrying Marinette, and detransformed in the street."

And Nino knew what the man was going to say before he said it. He could sense it by the weight in his gut and the buzz in his ears and the hole in his heart, the hole aching for the most important boy in his life who had been dealt an even crueler fate than Nino had originally thought. A fate where Adrien was not only the son of the cruel Gabriel Agreste _and_ the villainous Hawk Moth, but a fate where society also expected, required, _demanded_ Adrien to defeat him.

A fate where his own father was his worst enemy.

"Adrien is Chat Noir," Nino said numbly. Tom nodded, sealing Adrien's fate in a silent confirmation. Alya was trembling, shaking her head and trying to form words, but unsure of what to say.

The worst thing about this was his urge to _laugh_ , because this was fucking _ridiculous_. How did Nino—quiet, broody, antisocial Nino—get wrapped up in the most intertwined real-life soap opera of the century? How did he get here? He still felt like he was ten and his dad was telling him he was moving away, abandoning his wife and his son and their home for a new family. He felt ten but he was fifteen, almost sixteen, and everything around him was falling apart. He was ten but he was ten hundred but he was supposed to be fif-fucking- _teen_.

"What the hell," he croaked, feeling flames of tension licking at his insides. "What the hell is going on. What the _hell."_

"Nino," Alya whispered, trying to put her hand on his shoulder, but he stepped away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nino saw Tom kindly gesture for Alya to move aside. He knelt down to Nino's eye level, forcing him to look deep into the man's eyes for the first time. Nino saw the apparent tiredness and pain, but he also perceived a calm in the eye of the storm. He didn't know how that calm was capable of existing.

Tom began to speak steadily: "Nino, I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. This is a lot for any adult to go through, much less a child."

"Young adult," Alya corrected.

"Teenager," he conceded. "One frightening thing is happening after another, and it's hard to keep up. But, sometimes, all you can do is keep going. And it's _hard,"_ his voice cracked, "because the people I love are hurt, and there's nothing I can do.

"But, when I feel afraid, I think of my family." Just at the thought of them, his face brightened. "My wife and my daughter inspire me everyday, and I know I inspire them, too. By loving each other, we keep the flame alive."

Tom turned Nino by the shoulder, and pointed to the ambulance. "Adrien needs you to protect his flame."

Nino nodded, hoping the physical action would help psych him into the optimistic mindset. He glanced back to Tom, and Nino didn't feel ten anymore, but never in his life had he felt so deprived of a father. Not that his mom wasn't more than enough, but, for the love of god, his dad _betrayed_ him, and there was nothing that could reverse that.

But at least Nino had his mother back then. Now, Adrien was alone.

Nino took a deep breath and straightened his back. He marched towards the ambulance, just as the last paramedic was about to enter. The man glanced back at the sound of Nino approaching. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Adrien's best friend. Can I stay with him?"

The paramedic's face went from questioning to skeptical. "Family only, kid."

"He _is_ family," Tom said from behind Nino, backing him up. "Can't you spare some room?"

"I don't make the rules," the man said, looking over his shoulder impatiently. "Look, sorry, we have to—"

 _"Please,"_ Nino begged. "We're all he has." He stepped forward and clasped his hands together. Against his will, he felt tears fill his eyes. _"I'm_ all he has."

The paramedic looked at him for another second, his expression wrought with concern and hesitance. But, to Nino's relief, his eyes warmed with sympathy. Nino wasn't sure if it was out of pity for Chat Noir or himself, but it didn't matter when the paramedic nodded his head towards the truck. "All right. Hop in."

* * *

A small part of Nino had always known, had always suspected, that Adrien had secrets buried beneath his surface, had so much potential longing to be put to use. He'd known that Adrien had overcome so much difficulty in his life, and was more than capable of the endurance and compassion it took to be a hero. Nino just wasn't positive that he could have drawn this conclusion on his own.

He wasn't upset with Adrien for keeping secrets. Nino felt his belly pool with pride in the boy who had taught him to trust and love, when the boy himself had been denied so much of it. He _was_ upset with the circumstances, of the position he now realized Adrien was in and had been in throughout this catastrophe.

Because fate had been so cruel and twisted, so disgusting and vile, so wicked and ironic, that it made a monster of a father and cast an angel as his son. That it turned Gabriel into Hawk Moth and Adrien into Chat.

It was like Stars Wars but worse. Which, oh, great, _now_ he couldn't watch his favorite movie ever again without feeling gross. Fuck.

Nino was led into the waiting room, where Marinette's parents and Alya were, as the title entailed, waiting. Adrien had been wheeled down the hall, leaving Nino in the dust. He sat down beside Alya, who laid a warm hand on his shoulder, and he found himself leaning into the touch.

It was gonna be awhile.

Maybe it was for the best. While there was always the chance that his worries would fester and cast an incurable plague on his conscience, Nino could also use this moment to clean out his thoughts and acknowledge everything he had been shoving behind. Such as fear. And death.

Nino had been so overwhelmed with fear for the lives of those around him, that when it came time to fear for his own, it was too late. It was almost surreal, now, for him to be sitting at his girlfriend's side just hours after feeling the life get sucked from his body. After feeling his hope plummet to nothing and his fear explode into mayhem.

Nino felt that sense of detachment return, when he was sitting on Alya's couch, very much alive, shortly after he had been very much dead. Alya must have noticed the grave Nino was digging himself into (pun not intended), because she snaked her hand to his far shoulder and leaned into him, kissing his cheek and tickling his face with her curls.

As quickly as it came, the detachment left, because Alya was his anchor. "What's going on?" she asked, soft and judgement-free.

What would he ever do without her?

"Just thinking," he said, sounding far more tired than he thought he would. "And thinking. And thinking some more."

"There's a lot to think about," Alya pointed out. She turned her body in her chair to face him, and settled into her seat more comfortably. "Well, what's on your mind?"

Nino frowned. "I don't know. How we don't know if our friends will be okay. How we know that Gabriel Agreste is a terrorist. How we, like, died, and all."

"Sounds like fun," she joked. Nino stared at her. She scowled. "What? I'm not good at lifting the mood, that's your thing."

Nino laughed, and Alya smiled, and the air between them thinned. He clasped the hand Alya had slung over his shoulder. "I guess it is, huh."

"Yeah," Alya murmured. She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. "I can't believe both our best friends are superheroes, _and_ in love."

"We have impeccable taste in friends."

"Bold of you to assume we don't have impeccable taste in everything."

"Touché."

Alya giggled and shook her head. "But really, like? How is this real? Our best friends run around in halloween costumes and use magic to cure butterflies. I feel like I've been on drugs for thirty-six hours straight."

"You caught me," Nino deadpanned. "I shot you up with heroin while you were asleep."

"Nino, I love you but shut up."

"Shutting."

She hummed into his shoulder and sighed, her breath whooshing against Nino's neck. They were silent for a moment, listening to the squeaks of wheelchairs and the swinging of doors and the unending ring of the receptionist's telephone. The white noise of the television and the murmur of voices and the tapping of shoes on the sterile tiles.

The moment was over when the front door opened, and several more people filed into the room. Nino looked up and Alya opened her eyes, just in time to see her parents and little sisters walk in.

Alya dropped his hand and darted from her chair. "Maman! Papa!"

Nino looked away from the family reunion as Ms. Lahiffe burst into the room. Her coat was dropping off one shoulder and her hair was falling from her bun and her chest was heaving in panic, but she was still very much his mother.

Instead of Nino coming to her, she rushed to his chair and pulled him into an embrace. For a dubious second, he was frozen with shock, but quickly proceeded to fall apart in his mother's arms. "Mom," he whispered.

"I know, baby," she sighed, relieved and terrified all the same. She ironically kissed the same cheek Alya had kissed before, which was kinda embarrassing but mostly touching. Nino would take kisses from his mom over Alya anyday. (He was only kind of kidding.) ( _'Sorry, babe.')_

Ms. Lahiffe pulled away and kneeled in front of him, cradling his face in her hands. Her shoulders were heavy, and her eyes were burdened. "Alya's parents caught me up to speed," she explained. She inspected his body, brushing her thumbs over the curve of his cheeks. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he said softly.

"Good, that's good..."

" _Mom_ ," he chided. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."

Ms. Lahiffe let out a small laugh and smiled, lifting the burden from eyes ever so slightly. "Yeah. I know you will."

After a few more minutes of soaking in each other's presence and whispering assurances, Nino's mom kissed his cheek again before moving to keep the Dupain-Chengs company. Alya returned to her seat next to Nino, her antsy sisters following beside her, and Alya's parents joining the others.

Once again, the moment shifted as more people entered the room. But the only reason they captured Nino's attention was because of their uniforms.

 _Police_ uniforms.

And then it crashed and burned on them, spreading fire over every thought of hope and consolation and burning them away.

Because he and Alya looked to each other with wide eyes, instantly realizing that they were the only conscious people who knew of Hawk Moth's identity.

"We have to tell the police," Alya hissed, voice shrill. _"Now."_

Nino fidgeted his hands, heart pounding. "I'll do it," he said. "For Adrien." _'For his flame.'_

Alya swallowed thickly. "It's all yours."

Nino took a deep breath, and stood up on wobbling legs. The weight of what he was about to do was as liberating as it was burdening; he was about to ruin the life of the cruelest man on Earth, but would lock up the father of a boy who had already lost so much. A boy who deserved so much better. After this, nothing would be the same.

 _Everything was different now._

But he had to breathe and remind himself: _different_ didn't inherently mean _bad_. Change was not evil, not always.

Change came with the seasons, right? He'd experienced changes before, big to small, drastic to miniscule, life-changing to uninfluential. Change was painting his room and cutting his hair, flushing a fish down the toilet and burying his hamster in the park, his dad moving out and superheroes becoming real. Change was going from rapper to DJ, from friendless to friend-full, from single to... not.

Change was an old friend. Or frenemy, more like. It was turbulent but steady, easing but volatile. It was contradictory, an antithesis of its makeup, its own worst enemy.

Change came with growing up, with moving on or falling behind. You were either ready for it, or you weren't. For Nino, he wasn't ready for Ladybug to fall off the Eiffel Tower. He wasn't ready for Marinette to run away, or for Tikki to appear in Alya's kitchen. He wasn't ready for Gabriel to be Hawk Moth, or for Adrien to be Chat Noir. He wasn't ready to _die_.

But Nino had learned that, even when he was ten and watching his dad pull out of the driveway for the last time, change didn't have to be scary. Because, like how his mom had been standing next to him in their front doorway, Alya was standing next to him in the waiting room. In the face of change, Nino held onto his constants, the things that would always be there.

He wasn't being in denial of the mortality of people, and especially not of the relationships he had with them. He knew that people died and things were lost and mothers disappeared and fathers pulled out of driveways. But it was the things they left behind, the impacts they made, that were everlasting. Negative people taught him what to avoid, while positive people taught him what to become. He knew that the lessons they taught him, the lessons that mattered, would never fade. That by existing in his life, they had already watered his garden and allowed him to grow.

So, no matter what unpredictable changes awaited down that hall, Nino wouldn't be intimidated by them.

This time, he would be ready.

"Excuse me," Nino said, and the police officers turned around, and Nino stood tall.

"I need to report a criminal."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

 **nino is the love of my life stfuuuuu**

 **this chapter is so long and mostly just nino but i will have NOTHING less for my turtle son (and his wife alya)**

 **spoiler: next chapter is all adrien and mari pov so godspeed**

 **(my tumblr is lanceybi pls interact)**


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